


A Stone's Throw

by JD_Riley



Series: Victorian A/B/O [12]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Childbirth, Dominant Beta, Drunk Sex, Fluff and Angst, Forced Marriage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Male!Alpha, Male!Beta, Mutual Pining, Omega Verse, Omegaverse, Past Grooming, Past Rape, Past Underage, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunion Sex, Rimming, Submissive Alpha, Trauma, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-01-25 14:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 57,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21357685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Riley/pseuds/JD_Riley
Summary: Tristan Blackwell, Lord Griggsby, is gay.  After having successfully avoided his mother's attempts to match him with a nice Omega for yet another season, he is ambushed by her orchestration of an after-season party at his own estate where he is trapped by etiquette--and also the uncommon attraction he's begun to feel for the older Beta gentleman who he discovers owns the neighboring estate.  Fumbling over the trauma of his past and his attempts to negotiate with his own emotions, Tris must find a way to allow love into his heart while simultaneously keeping his ever-growing affections a secret from his meddling mother.
Relationships: Tristan Blackwell/Mortimer Stone
Series: Victorian A/B/O [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/695802
Comments: 147
Kudos: 212





	1. Chapter 1

Tristan Blackwell, Viscount Griggsby, was sitting in a rather unorthodox manner in his chaise on the lawn. His legs were sprawled about, taking up far too much room than was entirely necessary and he was slouched severely, his back bent in a fashion most unbecoming of a man of the noble class and yet he could not bring himself to move for the position he found himself in was one of a rather unconventional comfort. He couldn't explain how he had found himself to be here though he could most certainly explain  _ precisely _ how he had ended up  _ here. _ Being victim to his mother's whims had never been something that surprised him. She had always been like this; taking him to parties he had no wish to attend, bringing him along with her to places where he would be subjected to manufactured meetings with dull Omega girls who sought him with wide, imploring eyes.

This time, she had neglected to inform him that she would not be staying in town for a few weeks longer this year as she often did. Instead of that constant ritual being played out again this year, she had decided to accompany Tris in his coach for the long journey back to Foxhall Manor—the family home for at least a century. She had been adamant that he return home at the proper time that he normally did and that she would be there with him. Of course, at the time it had seemed baffling that such a change would take place in his normally stead-fast and predictable mother. After all, she  _ always _ stayed with her brother for two more weeks after the season was over and Tris  _ always _ found his way back home by himself to enjoy a wonderful and blissfully freeing two weeks away from his insufferable mother and her constant watchful eye.

He wasn't a school boy anymore but she insisted upon treating him as such, prattling on about his future marriage and how successful he might be at capturing a beautiful and sweet Omega girl if he might just  _ try _ for once in his life. Not that she knew anything about what he usually did in these two weeks when she wasn't breathing down his neck and nagging him to find a mate. She certainly didn't know anything about the books his uncle had hidden in a secret area of the library depicting scenes too lewd to be mentioned in polite society. He also couldn't fathom that one day she might accidentally stumble over his meticulously curated collection of written erotica he had stashed away in just that very secret room. It was a dangerous hobby to collect such publications in the bowels of London and hide them deep within his luggage in places not even the snooping servants could run across them. Keeping secrets as a Viscount was sometimes rather difficult.

“Now don't be difficult about this, Tristan,” his mother was saying, fiddling with the way her gloves fit over her fingers.

“What is it that I am going to be difficult about?” he asked warily, aware suddenly that she wasn't meeting his eyes. She only really avoided him like this when she was going to give him news he didn't like.

“Well when the guests arrive, you won't be able to squirrel yourself away. I've invited your cousins and—”

“I don't like my cousins.”

“Don't be rude, Tristan.” She was flustered already, flopping her hands back down into her lap and pursing her somewhat wrinkled lips. She did much of that around him. What her obsession was with getting him married, he would never understand. Perhaps it was grandchildren she wanted.

_ All the luck with that, _ he thought savagely. Tris couldn't even begin to imagine trying to have  _ children _ . What a nightmare that seemed. He couldn't even imagine how his mother might actually one day succeed in getting him to finally settle down with a darling little Omega she'd probably hand-pick from the bubbling crowd of them. The woman might even stoop to making some kind of “deal” with the poor girl's parents in order to manipulate him into a marriage. Not that it would really help her. He wouldn't marry a woman and he wouldn't marry an Omega. He wasn't interested.

His mother pulled out her fan and began to flutter it toward her throat, her nervousness already apparent. At least, he thought, it was mostly tolerable. He couldn't imagine what his Alpha scent might have been doing to her—it was not often intolerable but it certainly wasn't something she subjected herself to without clear purpose. “I've invited your cousins and they've organized a small party for the end of the season. I decided that I would like to have one.”

“Oh good, all of your friends from town are coming?” He was gritting his teeth, his scent shifting toward a decent amount of annoyance while his mother held the backs of her fingers toward her nose in an attempt to block it out.

“Well...actually...I had invited some of the younger people. You don't do so well after the season and I thought it might cheer you up to have a few people around.”

“A few people?” He eyed the way the servants were walking about, setting up tables for refreshments on the lawn. “A  _ few _ people?”

“It is only a few dozen, Tristan, it is not an issue.” Her eyes were watering. As stately as she always seemed, she was breaking down now at the caustic nature of his scent even as it dissipated in the clear air. “They'll be gone in a week or so and this will give you ample time to chat about with the as yet unengaged girls this season.”

“Mother, how many times do I have to tell you that I need none of your meddling when it comes to finding a wife?” He needed no one to meddle. In fact, he could live forever without a single shred of meddling from anyone. The fact of the matter was that it was this sort of thing that was, one day, going to make him absolutely lose his mind.

“Tristan, do not get testy with me. I'm not finished speaking with you and you know how your scent is offensive to me.”

He merely stared at her.

“Do you hear me? You need to get control over yourself! And what is this posture!” Her voice was becoming shrill. “Your cousins have taken it upon themselves to put together this party and these people who have arrived are your  _ guests _ . I have sent invitations to the most prominent people you know. Some of them are your  _ friends _ . You cannot present yourself like some barbaric peasant! You have to act the part of a proper nobleman!”

She got up, fretting with her nose and fanning herself frantically before she huffed at him and retreated across the lawn. This was going to be a trying few weeks, he thought morosely, though he was hoping that perhaps his mother would have at the very least invited some of his  _ actual _ friends—the men that she was usually tutting about as though they were uncivilized. Perhaps they were.

“My Lord!” exclaimed the butler, Heddlman, who bowed deeply as he arrived from the same direction his mother had gone. He must have seen her, had he not offered her aid? Well enough, Tris thought. She probably would have cursed at him anyhow. “Lady Halwill has arrived. She's requested to join you.”

“Thank god,” he sighed to himself, waiting for Lady Halwill to come sit in the chaise his mother had left behind in her rush to get away from him. When she did, she took to it daintily, her gown a stunning example of the latest fashion with the neckline swooping almost scandalously low.

“You know, it was a devil of a time to get Wendell not to hold his usual party. But I knew you would need me here.”

“What would I do without you, Georgette?”

“Make terrible and ruinous decisions. What all men do when left to their own devices,” she provided with a hint of a smile over her pretty lips. “You should hear what Wendell thinks he might do before I stop him. You're all useless.”

He smiled. “At least there is one constant in life then, I suppose. Tell me, are there any decent bachelors?”

“Who could draw my eye from my husband?” she asked teasingly. “Your mother has taken it upon herself not to provide you with too much competition, you understand. She's invited all the pretty girls and none of the Alphas they pine for.”

“Then how did she figure the ratios?”

“Betas, my dear Tris. She even invited that Beta gentleman from the neighboring estate, Mr. Stone.” She chuckled to herself. “It is what every mother tries at least once and it is the sort of gathering that Betas  _ live for _ . At least the men. They get uninterrupted access to all of the pretty girls and they don't have to fight Alphas for their attention. The only Alpha they would need to out-shine is you and since you don't wish to shine...well...they'll come to appreciate you.”

“I don't need Beta friends.”

“Oh that's right,” she grinned. “But at the very least, it will be a decent week of admiring the very attractive ones.”

“Betas hardly tempt me.” He passed her a small, conspiratorial smile and she rolled her eyes at him. Georgette was the only person in the world who knew about him—about his preferences. How they had gotten to this point had been something of an adventure, the pair having found each other in a rather compromising position trying to hide in the same place when spying upon a very handsome and very naked Lord Halwill. Of course, knowing what each other was up to, they vowed secrecy and in determining the man's decidedly  _ conventional _ sexual proclivities, Tris had aided Georgette greatly in procuring her engagement to him. From then on, they had stuck together well and Tris considered the gorgeous little Omega to be one of his very best friends.

“Perhaps, my Lord,” she began slowly, “you should be expanding your horizons.”

“Bah,” he dismissed. “I've plenty of opportunities...”

“The men you've met at Blakely's are not  _ opportunities _ ,” she told him soundly. “They may be gentlemen but they're not looking for what you're looking for.”

“What is it that you think I'm looking for?” he asked, wondering if such a question might tease her and cause her to blush.

It didn't. “Love.”

“And you think they're just using me for sex.”

She didn't blush at this either. “I do. I hope you do not mind, I took the liberty of asking for tea. Here they come now.”

“Grand,” he replied, covering his eyes with his hand until the rattle of the tea tray had settled and the footman who'd brought it was gone. “You really are going to make me look at Betas all week aren't you? You know they're desperate men.”

“There is not one Beta at Blakely's?” She didn't wait for him to get up to pour and instead did it herself.

He pinned her with a blank stare that suggested she should know the answer to that. Alphas were not usually patient enough to suffer Beta gentlemen at their taboo sex clubs. There was a particular primal savagery they were searching for and such a thing was not something Beta gentlemen were well-versed in.

“Right,” Georgette offered softly. “They're  _ boring _ I suppose.”

“Ridiculously boring,” Tris replied. “I've never met a Beta who could hold my interest.” That, he knew, wasn't  _ quite _ true. When he'd been a boy, plenty of Betas had held his interest. It was merely that when he'd presented, his lust had become more powerful, more consuming. He needed more, he needed  _ bigger _ . He'd become flustered when his friends undressed to swim around him and the spice of an Alpha's lust in their scent had become something of an aphrodisiac to him. He had out-grown Betas. He hadn't use for them now. Aside, all the Betas at this party weren't likely to hold the same preferences as he did anyhow.

Georgette sipped her tea, watching more guests come out onto to lawn and mingle amongst themselves. “Hmm. It's almost as though everyone is ignoring you.”

“Good. I've no need to be bothered.”

She peered over at him. “Tea, Tris?”

“No thank you. I'd fancy some gin actually. I'm going to be absolutely pickled by the time this night is over.”

“I'd prefer it if you weren't. Come now, Tris. This isn't the worst that could happen. Come look at the Betas with me. Did you know your cousins have organized a lawn game that will require them all to remove their waistcoats and shirtsleeves? They'll be half naked! No doubt your mother will require your participation. You've got to keep your wits about you so that you and I might giggle over the guests afterward.”

“I'll probably still be lusting over your husband.”

“Then we can giggle over my husband.”

He sat up a little straighter. “And likely I'll  _ not _ be participating.”

She gasped petulantly. “Why ever not? If there were a man present who might find themselves attracted to you—”

“There won't be and I refuse to subject myself to such an indignity. Running about half in the nude is not something I'm interested in.”

“Oh...only bathing in full nudity among Alphas?” she prodded.

He felt his cheeks gain a hard flush and he frowned at her. “Well, you know what? Yes. Come to think of it, there really is something to be said about being among others of your own kind. We're rare enough as it is, we might as well have a good go at one another.”

“But what about  _ love _ ?” She was looking at him with imploring eyes.

“Don't put so much stress upon it. Love is a fool's game.”

“Love may be a fool's game, but I have met no fool greater than you, Tristan Blackwell,” she told him, standing up to make her way toward the small pond where the festivities were just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my NaNoWriMo project for this year. Obviously it's going to be longer than 50k (at least I think it is) so it'll be posting after November. Not to mention all the other projects I'll be working on as well. xD No regular update schedule on this one. Just whenever I want.


	2. Chapter 2

Georgette had been right, of course. There were going to be plenty of mostly-naked men on the lawn today and it was all entirely orchestrated due to the installation of a medium-sized sand-bottom pond his mother had insisted they place for decorative purposes. Of course, she was rather miffed about the usage of her decorative pond for water sports, but she would certainly survive, he supposed when he looked at the way she was appreciatively eying some of the older gentlemen who had already removed their shirtsleeves.

_ My own mother eying the Betas? What sort of reality have I fallen into? _

He dragged his lounge across the lawn, caring not about how he created superficial ruts in the lawn as he went. He followed to where Georgette sat and chose to sit beside her again, his eyes easily finding the tall, well-built and handsome Viscount she was married to.

“Mmm, your husband is looking very, very delicious today.”

She snickered. “You know who else looks rather delicious? Nicolas Barker. A rather tall Beta. Look at his arms. They're shaped so perfectly...”

His mouth tilted to the side. “He's got no...well...you know what I mean.”

“I know your type,” she teased him. “You like the ones with a little hair on their chests. Well how about Vincent Hardshram? He's got a good amount of hair.”

“And he's bald on top,” he replied flatly, laying back dramatically on the lounge and placing his hand over his eyes. “Betas are _ boring _, Georgette. There's nothing that'll end that plain fact. No amount of chest hair will make them any less a Beta.”

“Hmm,” she mused. “I think you're just being stubborn. Of course this really isn't fair in the least...my husband is the only Alpha playing...”

That statement was only true for about the first few rounds of the new game they played as they found through much grumbling that the team with the lone Alpha upon it was most certainly the team that was going to win. When Tris refused to play despite much urging from his mother and several of the other team's members, Halwill was standing next to his wife, dripping wet and appearing distinctly pleased for having been rejected from the game for being _ too good. _

“Well it's a simple game, really,” he explained, wiping the drying cloth over his neck while he stood in a pair of wool breeches that clung to his body and left almost nothing to the imagination. Tris tried not to stare at the impressive bulge he could clearly see outlined at his groin and instead stared out over the lawn while a cloud came over the sun and reduced the glare. “You simply get a hold on the rubber ball and you place it on the dock. It matters little to me that once I get the ball, I can easily wade with five men attached to me across the whole of the pond. That doesn't seem like it should be much of my concern.” He chuckled lightly. “Of course if Tris was playing, it would be a fair bit more difficult...but you're a little bit of a prude, my friend. Can't imagine being shirtless with the rest of us?”

His face was red and it was in no small part attributed to the closeness of this mostly-naked Alpha. “I feel I've got a fair bit more decency than most. I also feel like this has certainly set a tone for how this party is going to proceed. If we're all getting naked by the first afternoon, how should that work itself out by the end of the week? Shall we be subjected to nymphs roaming about the halls nude and—”

“Tristan,” Georgette chided. “You wouldn't mind a few nymphs, would you? And can you begrudge them? The poor dears aren't married yet. They might need to get a few kisses in. What's a few kisses with a Beta or two?”

Halwill raised one thick brow. “What sort of language is that from my wife?”

“As though you could be surprised by me,” she provided softly. “Look at the girls, Tris. Do they seem like they are overly love-sick over the specimens your mother has gathered?”

He looked around, finding over a dozen girls who'd gone too long without a mate. Their eyes were the slightest bit glassy and they gazed almost dully at the men who frolicked around them. Still, they did look at them—in fact, their eyes never left them. “I find it difficult to read women.”

Halwill sniffed. “Well perhaps that is why your mother seems to think you need aid with them. These girls have not the best of prospects. Some of them have families that are mired in scandal, some of them are poor as church mice, and the rest are simply unlucky. They've gone through too many solitary heats and they will take whatever it is they can get. Your mother will not try this again, I assure you though plenty of the Betas will wish she did.”

Tris snorted a little laugh. “Do you think they will come for me?”

“You're the best there is here for what they need. They will fight for you. If you wish them to leave you be, you'd best know your hiding places well for some of them have already set their glances upon you.”

He saw what Halwill spoke of then, girls along the outskirts of the seated watchers who made certain that their glazed stares connected with his when he found them. He lowered his gaze from them, refusing to hold contact with them for overly long. “I would consider it a great favor if the both of you might help me in not attracting any of them. In fact, if either of you might let them know that I am not in want of a wife, that would be very kind.”

Halwill ruffled his hair with the drying cloth. “When do you think she might wear away your resolve, Tris?”

“She won't. I will find a wife when I wish to and not a moment before...” The very second this was loosed from his lips, his eye was caught by one of the men who emerged from a scuffle in the water, the man standing as the ball was tossed in another direction. He wiped his eyes of pond water and looked about for where he should have waded next. A rather tanned fellow, not overly tall but average height for a Beta. He had dark blonde hair that was darker in the water, cut short and spiked out in all directions as he ruffled it. He was soaked to the skin with a dripping mat of chest hair that, in the light that filtered down from a break in the clouds, shimmered with the beads of water which clung to it. Tris was staring. He knew he was staring. There was _ something _ about this Beta that had made him lose his focus on what he was saying and yet he could not define exactly what that quality was. He didn't know this man, he hadn't cared to know him, he hadn't even _ seen _ him which wasn't saying very much with how Betas seems to fade into the shadows of everywhere.

“Tris?” Halwill asked, the sound of his voice muffled a bit against the Alpha's thoughts. “Tris?”

He blinked a few times, turning his head away from the Beta who'd caught his attention and moving his eyes to his friend, hoping he hadn't missed anything important. “Hmm?”

Halwill was looking where Tris had been, befuddlement in his expression.

“What is it, Halwill?”

“Oh...um...you just seemed a little tentative in saying so.”

“I'm very much resolved,” he replied, clearing his throat decisively. “Could you put some clothes on, Halwill? You look like a savage wandering around like you are.”

The Alpha gave him a male smile and turned away, still rubbing at his hair with the towel as he retreated back toward the manor house to, presumably, put his clothes on. Tris hoped he would—he didn't need any more sleepless nights feeling like an absolute cad for having touched himself to thoughts of his best friend's husband.

Of course, as soon as the Alpha was gone, his eyes sought out the Beta he'd spied, finding him to be decent enough at the sport. When he'd finally gotten his hands upon the little ball made of Indian rubber, Tris sat up entirely, even leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and entirely invested in whether or not he could keep his hands on it until he could place it upon the dock. His hands were tight in a hard grip over themselves as he sat nervously watching and when that particular Beta _ did _ manage to make a score by the skin of his teeth, he had to suppress his immediate urge to stand up and holler out the small victory. He gathered himself, finding himself trembling just the smallest amount.

“Graces, Tristan,” Georgette told him, fanning herself lazily with her bonnet gently settled over her eyes as she lay upon her lounge. “Your smell is intriguing. I never thought you interested in the outcome of sport.”

“You know the instinct of Alphas,” he told her, nervously clearing his throat again. “It is nigh impossible for us to remain impartial in a competition.”

“Oh yes,” she replied softly, “right.”

Of course, as much as he knew he was putting his own foot in his mouth, he couldn't help but continue to follow the Beta around with his eyes, finding the gray in his hair—the bulk of it focused about his temples—attractive in a telling sort of way. Telling of Tris's own inherent fetishes. He had, for much of his life, been decidedly attracted to _ older _ men. But Betas? Never! He got up, anxiety causing his palms to itch and his heart to pound.

Georgette removed her bonnet from her eyes and looked up at him suddenly. “What's got you upset, dearest?”

“I...I don't know,” he replied breathlessly.

“That's alright. Would you like to take a walk to the house? Respite might be good for you, you've been in the sun too long.” She didn't quite mean that. He was prone to this kind of thing and she was often his savior. At his nod, she got up and offered her arm, removing him from the lawn and taking him into a quiet parlor where she ordered some strong herbal tea and bayed him to lay upon the settee. She sighed lightly when it was brought and poured him a cup as his hands would shake too heavily for him to pour anyway. “I am telling you right now—”

“Oh don't tell me anything,” he replied in a shaking voice. “I'm too stubborn to listen.”

“You always run away from things...well there's nowhere to run, Tris. Not in your own house.”

“Yes there is...I just can't get there when there are all these people about.”

She stared at him without humor in her eyes. “Darling, one of these days you're going to have to learn how to love...and _ be _ loved. Truly.”

“There's no such thing as love. Not for me.” For so long he'd known this simple fact. If only Georgette could come to know it as well.

* * *

It was late in the evening and the silver moonlight was streaming into Georgette's bed chamber, the cool air against the glass seeping through and chilling her fingers which pressed against it while she stared up at the stars. Wendell, her husband, was laying against the pillows with the covers to his waist, a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose which he hated and required only for reading. They made him look positively silly, she thought sometimes. An Alpha like her husband, strong and built so solidly needing spectacles to read his letters seemed like something absurd to her and yet she rather loved them. Especially the way he looked when she interrupted his bedtime reading by taking them off to kiss him.

His voice was low and Alpha-like, not loud but with a distinct but thoughtless edge that excited her. “You're looking at me. I can feel it. What are you thinking, little one?”

“Hmm...just about how handsome my husband is. After years of having been married to him, I still find him very attractive. Do you think such a thing is rare?”

“Not for couples like us,” he replied, still not looking up from his book. “I've been trying to read this damned thing for two weeks and I'm still only thirty pages in. How the devil does Valentine read this drivel?”

“It's not drivel,” Georgette replied. “It's romance.”

“It's bloody boring.”

She giggled suddenly, shocked to hear such a thing from him.

“Well pardon me,” he grumbled, slapping the book shut and rubbing his eyes. The lamplight was warm and bright on the table near to him and he looked over at her then, smiling softly. “I just can't think of anything more romantic than the sight of you in your nightgown...or perhaps not in your nightgown. Might you sleep naked with me tonight?”

“Out of my heat?” she asked teasingly, her cheeks pink.

“I like to tease you out of your heat. Must I be driven by instinct when I could be driven by want alone?”

“Ah, there is my husband...always thinking about what's really important to him.”

“You?”

“Sex,” she replied easily, still grinning. “Perhaps I will come to bed without my nightgown. Just so that I might scandalize the maids when they do the wash.” She watched him watching her while she unlaced the ribbon at her throat and then pulled down at her nightgown, letting it fall to the floor in a heap around her ankles before she stepped over it, nude in the lamplight. She was so comfortable with him that his warm, liquid stare was commonplace for her now. “Am I still beautiful, Alpha?”

“Oh yes,” he murmured, licking his lips. He was a man who did not love her _ despite _ the havoc three children wrought upon her body but a man who loved her for everything—then, now, and always. He kissed at the scars over her hips and her tummy when it pleased him to do so and he worshiped her resolutely without thought to how she had been changed by time. “There is not a day in my life that I might ever tell you no should you ask me this,” he told her softly, arousal potent in his scent. “Will you come to me now, Georgette?”

“Of course I will.” She climbed over the counterpane and straddle his legs beneath it, allowing him to take her and bring her down over him, her head nestled against his shoulder while he held her sweetly and snaked a hand between her thighs.

“You know,” he told her candidly while he played with her. “I realize that as we get older, we are far more candid during our intimate moments, but this might toe the line.”

She spread her legs further and opened her mouth when he slipped a finger deep within her. “Oh? Something bothering you then, Alpha?”

“Yes...a little bit...of course it can wait.”

“Mmm, no. We've spoken of candid matters before in such circumstances. It seems to be a talent of ours. We'll be much too tuckered out after to have a discussion, we might as well have it here.”

He nodded and rubbed at the top of her sex, prompting her to groan quietly from the sparkles of pleasure that tingled through her. “It's about Tris.”

“Mmm...” she moaned, pressing her hips forward to beg his fingers for a harder touch. “What about him?”

“Did you not tell me that he was rather...erm...fond of Alphas? I know we've had this discussion...that he's got a particular _ preference. _ One that I am decidedly puzzled about, of course, but not in any way disturbed by...”

She giggled. “You are only perfectly flattered by it, husband, because you know that even to peculiar men of your ilk you are rather attractive. How could an Alpha do anything but preen over another Alpha finding him handsome?”

“Oh believe me,” he sighed, “some men might kill over it. He's right to keep it secret and I'll never tell him I know...it could destroy your friendship for him to know that I've come about his secret by you. But Tristan is my friend, and I want him happy.” He slipped two fingers deep inside her and kissed at her jaw while she gasped. “He was staring at a Beta.”

“Mmm!” she moaned loudly before a heavy gasp. “Mount me, Alpha!”

“I'll mount you when you're ready.”

“I'm ready!”

He was smiling, damn him! She nipped at his throat, her teeth scraping against his flesh. “Calm yourself, Georgette,” he chided her in his low, vibrating tone. “He was staring at Mortimer Stone. He owns the estate to the east and lives as a bachelor at thirty-nine. It's a life a man can choose but what sort of man does?”

She gripped at his shoulder, biting her nails down into his flesh to punish him for making her wait. “Wendell...” she stated, trying to be patient, “are you suggesting that the man might find Tristan to be a suitable prospect?”

“I am.” He shifted to look her in the eyes, the ice blue of his gaze earnest. “Am I not allowed to want a decent mate for my friend?”

“Your friend has told me many, _ many _ times that a Beta is too boring for his taste.”

“You didn't see the way he was looking at him then. Like he wanted to devour him whole. Like I looked at you when I first saw you at Hayworth's Manor.”

“You are to tell me that you think you saw a man fall in love at first sight?” She found herself sufficiently distracted. “That sounds perfectly unreasonable.”

“Does it? Perhaps only to an Omega. An Alpha knows these things.”

“Oh yes, like you _ know _ everything else.”

He kissed her again over her jaw and she could feel the scratch of his stubble over her delicate skin, his lips toying with the lobe of her ear. “Mmm, my love, Tristan is a dear friend of both of us. He needs someone who can temper him. Who has the resolve and the experience to know him as he should be known. If Mortimer Stone is the man who can do that, what should it matter that he is a Beta?”

“What do you suggest then?” she asked, snaking her hand to his that was nestled between her thighs and urging him to thrust in and out of her.

“I suggest we put them together. Give them every opportunity to come into contact. Surely nature will take care of it after that.”

She chuckled. “You underestimate the foolishness of men.”

“Do I? Perhaps...how foolish have I been in the past? There is too much to think of, I suppose. If they refuse to come to know each other naturally, then we will have to orchestrate it artificially. Do you agree?”

“If I agree, will you mount me?”

Wendell laughed, shaking her where she lay atop him. “Yes.”

“Then yes! Yes, I agree!”

Her husband, Alpha to his core, flipped her then, kicking the counterpane to the end of the mattress and taking her like a man simply _ must _ take his mate. With vigor. With passion. With _ love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He gets by with a little help from his friends.


	3. Chapter 3

Mortimer Stone was used to getting up early. He thought about simply riding home and then coming back in the morning but there was a long nature walk that had been planned by Headey Wallis whose best friend happened to be an ornithologist. Being that Mort was rather intrigued by songbirds and their particular behavior patterns, he was interested in this morning walk and found that it would be more practical to stay the night rather than make the ride. He could have made the ride, of course, but then he would have missed the spectacular event of the sunrise which he watched while munching on one of the rashers he'd picked up from the early breakfast the servants had made just for the guests taking the walk.

It wasn't as though he'd never meandered through these woods. After all, they were the same set of forest that lined his own property. But to walk through it while knowing what the hell he was looking for was another bit of a journey. The cool morning air was bracing and the sight of millions of beads of dew over the bright green lawn was near breathtaking.

It helped sooth his nerves that he knew most of the gentleman who'd been invited even if he wasn't completely acquainted with the man who actually owned the house. He was rather comfortable here among the Betas and was happy to have been invited along with them, even if it was obvious what the purpose was while he was there.

_Be quiet, be reasonable, and for god's sake, don't get in any Alpha's way._

This was clearly an attempt by the Lady Griggsby to lure a desperate young Omega to her son. From all Mort knew about the family, this had been enough of a trial already. The young Lord was only in his upper twenties and did not seem at all interested in finding a girl to settle down with. It wasn't as though the man was a rake or anything of the like. In fact, he was rather a conservative young gentleman by all accounts. Mort was almost embarrassed to admit that he could relate to the man well enough. After all, he himself had never _really_ been in want of a mate. He'd spent time with girls in London before but had decided in his mid-thirties that such a distraction wasn't worth the headache it brought him. He'd much rather be left alone, even if such a decision left him lonely one in a while. It was easily dismissed, though now that Malcolm, his brother-in-law, had remarried, he supposed he would be lonesome more often.

It was this reason that he had chosen this activity rather than some of the others later in the day. The young ladies were not keen upon getting up this early, proving to be late risers as was typical of women of their ilk. He could keep to his own kind and learn a thing or two while he was doing it.

Shockingly enough, he found quickly that keeping to his own kind was, perhaps, going to be more difficult. He'd expected a stray Alpha here or there, but as the Betas came together on the terrace, at least two heads rose above them, their striking Alpha scents spreading a giddy nervousness through the crowd.

Headey was a few feet from him, the side of his mouth tight. His expression was equal parts befuddled and annoyed. Obviously he'd not expected his cousin to attend something clearly catered toward Betas and their interests.

Mort wandered to him, peering over at the Alphas, both of whom seems to be in relatively decent spirits, though Lord Griggsby was clearly still shaking off the effects of Morpheus. “Your cousin is much taller than I thought he was.”

Headey grumbled. “Yes and with much broader shoulders. You know I knew him when he was small. Thought he was going to be an Omega, he was so slender. Rather wish he was.”

“Is it you who would have stood to inherit?”

“Ah, if only I could be so fortunate. No. It is our other cousin, another damned Alpha. Older than I am by a few months. Though I don't suppose I can really allow myself to become jealous of Tristan—his mother is a wretch. I should never wish to handle her for more than a few days.”

Mort nodded politely and looked upon the Viscount again who was looking at him, a rather odd expression on his face, almost as though he were annoyed to find him there. Averting his gaze, he felt blood rush into his face and under his cravat while his stomach tightened. He didn't even know the fellow—what the devil could he have done to upset him?

_Oh dear. Perhaps the Alpha and his cousin have feelings that are mutual! And of course he has just seen me speaking to that very cousin for whom he does not hold fond feelings!_

He sought to keep to himself then, distancing himself from Headey until he was certain that one might notice his aloofness. He was polite to all others who came to him and spoke to him but did not hold conversation. It would not do to be considered a terrible neighbor. After all, he did have to share a property line with the man, and there was nothing worse than knowing one of your neighbors was particularly averse to one's company. He had not yet been introduced to the Viscount though he had known the young Alpha's father and had been on decent terms with him at the very least. It just so happened that every time he had come to call upon the family, the only child had been off to school and thus not around to obtain an introduction.

The songbirds were out in force and he listened attentively, trying always to keep himself from becoming underfoot as the small crowd made the attempt to remain quiet in the effort to hear them and spot them. Griggsby, for having gotten up at such an hour just for this event, seemed bored, choosing to examine the ground and his shoes quite a bit, though it also seemed as though the unfortunate meeting between Mort and Headey had never left the man's mind as he remained keen to pass annoyed glances toward the Beta every so often. These glances were enough to strike Mort with a case of nervousness that left him unsettled and flushed. He was quite ready to walk back to the house when the group began heading in that direction and he gratefully led the charge.

_Perhaps it will be time to go home today. I should hate for him to think I've got something against him. I'll come back later when the party is done and I can make a better impression. Curse Phillip for having left me when he could have deftly walked into a parlor with me in tow and had everything smoothed out and peachy._

He often cursed his older brother for dying though it could hardly be considered the Alpha's fault for having done so. It was simply easier to blame a dead man for these things rather than himself for his own incompetence at social gatherings. He had a tendency toward a tactless approach in many ways, saying just what he meant rather than beating around the bush like so many of his contemporaries. It wasn't a very _Beta_ way of being and thus it had crippled much of his social abilities as most of the groupings he was normally accepted within had little patience for the directness of Alphas.

Still, he sought to change these things about himself when he could, becoming less of a target for ridicule by becoming more standoffish. Most of the time, it worked. Some of the time, he forgot he was supposed to be doing it. He was nearing forty, for god's sake. How was one supposed to teach him anything? If it all hadn't come as a given in the first place, how could he teach himself his own supposed instinctual responses?

Just as he had made it into the garden and was heading toward the doors into the house, he was stopped by a very low male voice calling out his name.

“Mr. Stone?”

He paused, dreading to have to turn and find Griggsby standing there. Fortunately, it was not that peculiar Alpha but the only other one who had come along that morning. He was tall, dashingly handsome, and was staring down at Mort with the lightest ice blue eyes he'd ever seen. A formidable man, surely.

Mort cleared his throat. “Y-yes, sir Alpha?”

“I'm Halwill. Pleasure.” He put out his hand and seemed very pleased when Mort shook it. “I've heard you've a collection of swords.”

“Oh, Gods...” he blurted. “Th-they're not...well they're not really mine...oh well, I suppose they _are_ really mine but I'm not the one who went about collecting them. M-My father did when he was alive.” It happened that his father really had gone about collecting old swords but Phillip had cared very little for the small amount and had left them with Mort when he'd moved into his own home with his mate. “It's just a small amount, anyhow. I think one of his favorites was some ghastly spoil of a poor Maratha who found his end in Panipat...though you're probably not interested in any of that.”

Halwill was sporting a tiny little smile that one might take to suggest that he _was_ rather interested in all of that, which wasn't something Mort was particularly used to. “You don't say. Such collections are normally either lost to history or made to be some kind of centerpiece in a man's home. I suppose the collection is in some out-of-the-way library or parlor. I do hope you one day will allow me to see it. I think I have a few friends who might be interested as well. Tell me, do you know the history of all the swords or just that one in particular?”

Mort stared at him for a second, his mouth slightly open in his shock. An Alpha was taking an interest in something at his home? In something having to do with him? How absolutely unusual. “I...well I...yes. I know the history of practically all of them. Supposedly, there is one that is, if not the original, an exact replica of a sword owned by Cornwallis during the siege of Yorktown.”

“The siege of Yorktown, you say?” he asked, a fair amount of amusement flashing in his ice eyes. “I don't suppose there could be a man in England who knows more about that sword that yourself.”

“I-I...well I don't suppose either...” he mused. “But what interest could you have in such swords? Are you working me toward something, Alpha?”

“Yes. I am. I'm working you toward staying after we eat tonight so that you might have a drink with me and I perhaps convince you to sell me one of your swords.”

“Ah.” He thought that was where this was going. An Alpha with a taste for something was a wolf who had only the scent of blood in his nose and no meat in his belly. “I don't suppose you might allow for me to let you down gently...those swords have a sentimental value, you see. Having belonged to my father...”

“Everyone has his price,” Halwill dismissed easily, waving his hand in the air. “Your price might be too large for me but you could at the very least let me blow myself out of breath before you tell me I've no chance.”

He chuckled. “Must I?”

“I beg you.” He didn't seem much like he was begging though if there was anything insincere about what he was asking, Mort couldn't detect it.

“I suppose then, that I should relent. I've never had anyone take an interest in them before. You should come and see them...my home is only a short ride. If wished to see them...”

“No no,” he replied with a warm smile. “To see them would be to discount their history in favor of their beauty. There is more to an artifact than its appearance and I fear that I might be swayed by a love for one of them on the basis of aesthetic alone. Could you imagine if a man were to choose a mate in such a way?” He let out a soft laugh and then muttered low to himself, “_Oh, Halwill, you cad._”

Mort smiled at him politely, finding that it was really all he could do. The rest of the Betas were mulling about in the garden, still peering through their little binoculars at the birds scattered and discussing the events of the morning. Some of them had gone back into the house and others were beginning to figure out what other activities they would be attending during the day.

Griggsby was looking at him. He wasn't really looking at Mort to meet his gaze or anything, just giving him a stare, his brows furrowed tightly and his eyes almost unfocused—as though he _had been_ staring at Mort and had merely been distracted by his thoughts surrounding him.

_Oh no. Now he knows that Halwill wants me to stay. He's upset by me somehow. I've done something or perhaps I _am_ something that is offensive to him. Perhaps it is my very nature that he despises. I cannot help that...but now I've really gone and done it, telling Halwill that I'll stay and let him convince me to buy one of my father's swords. Oh I really am a bit of a jackass, aren't I? Staying in a man's house like this when he clearly wishes me gone._

Still, it was too late to tell the man he had to go now and so instead, he very politely extracted himself from the garden, giving Halwill a bow before he retreated into the house and sought to remain as far away from Griggsby as he possibly good for the remainder of the day. It was difficult, of course, to do so during the course of dinner, as he seemed to be much too close for the Viscount's liking, the man flashing him deeply disturbed glances for the whole of the meal which had the effect of sending Mort into small fits of nervousness. He could barely eat, finding it easier to sit and stare at his food rather than consume it, listening to the banalities of conversation around him and hoping that there might be a private parlor in which Halwill should wish to conduct his business.

That, indeed, turned out to be at least somewhat correct. There were a few small Omegas chattering in the corner of the parlor he chose, sitting around a small circular table and playing with a deck of cards. Their only chaperone was the Lady Halwill, who sat with them regally and every so often turned her head to cast a sweet glance to her husband who only sometimes was able to catch her doing it and smile at her warmly.

Mort found this all to be acceptable, snacking now upon the small sandwiches that were brought with the evening brandy, careful not to eat too many at the same time as he thought that might have been very rude. “I say, my Lord,” he tried as a start, “your wife is by far one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.”

Halwill peered at him curiously. “Oh? Do you find yourself jealous of me?”

Startled, he jumped a little bit and moved his gaze to the Viscount, his heart thudding hard at the thought that he had just posed a challenge to the man somehow. “N-no! No, of course not. I...I merely thought it somewhat interesting that you had stated earlier...”

“And I am a saucy gentleman for having said it. I think I fell deeply in love with Georgette the very moment I saw her. She, nevertheless, tells me a different story. That she was not nearly so pretty when I first laid eyes upon her—but I didn't see the _real_ Georgette...not until that moment.”

“It sounds like a tortuous little tale.”

“To tell, I'm sure it is...and even to listen to. But to live? Oh...I've very much enjoyed it.” He was smiling at her again when she caught him doing it, her tongue peeking out to lick at her pink lips. “I did know her though...much like your swords you will tell me about. I knew her from the way people spoke of her. How bright she was. How vivid. Tell me, Mr. Stone...what is the most interesting sword in your father's collection? The one from Cornwallis?”

He had been looking at Georgette, her profile that of the most stunning young woman he thought he'd ever seen. Hearing the query and processing it about a second after, he cleared his throat again and turned to Halwill fully, his brandy close to his chest. “Uhm...ah...no, actually. Should the sword from Cornwallis be a fraud, as I suspect it is, I think the most interesting artifact must actually be the Mameluke that is decidedly not from a western smith. It was cast in Egypt just before the invasion of Napoleon and was owned by a ubiquitous young military man who seemed to be everywhere that really mattered. I've sought the history of this young man and indeed he was very well-traveled, but the efforts of my father to make him seem the ever-present demi-god of Egypt was, naturally, a flawed endeavor.”

“This sword very much holds sentimental value to you,” Halwill suggested, his voice soft and searching.

“I would say so, though I can't tell you it has more value that just that. It is, perhaps, one of these least of my collection in terms of monetary worth but I remember the stories my father used to tell my brother and I about this young man who had this Mameluke at his hip no matter where he went and kept it sharp to cut down his enemies wherever they should arrive. He told us stories of his romances, his adventures, and all the rest.” He sighed with his recollection. “No doubt that much of this is tinted by the rose of boyhood but I can't help but consider it the most wonderous of the lot. It inspired much of my imagination, you see.”

“Hmm,” the Viscount hummed thoughtfully. “A collection of swords. I don't suppose you might ascribe to the notion that a man's sentiment might in turn suggest small idiosyncrasies about his character? Oh there is a word for this, isn't there?”

He was struck dumb for only a moment, staring at the floor. “Do you mean to call me an eccentric?”

The Alpha chuckled. “Are you?”

“I prefer to consider myself a sort of..._dilettante_, if you will.”

“But _swords,_ Mr. Stone.”

“Yes?”

He gave a vague motion with his hand and then sipped at his brandy. “You have to admit that such a hobby can lend itself to the suggestion that there is a wholly different man beneath your cool exterior.”

“I am not a violent man, if that is what you imply.”

He sighed through his nose, casting a thoughtful expression over Mort's face. “No, Mr. Stone, that's not really what I was thinking. A military man holds a sword and it is an extension of his arm. A normal man holds his sword and it's between his legs. I think what I thought of you was more that you were some kind of a secretive scoundrel.”

The Beta was silent for a time, staring at the Alpha's face and almost entirely unable to process what he'd just been told.

Halwill nodded. “I've scandalized you.”

“M-my...my brother was an officer...”

“And you, the Beta, were left behind. I understand. Tell me, what does a man like you do with these swords?”

He swallowed thickly, uncertain as to where this conversation was headed. “N-nothing. They sit in glass cases in the library. I don't do anything with them.”

“Do you ever wish you did?”

“Are we still talking about swords?”

“Are we?”

He wanted to stand up but cast a glance over to the Omegas who were still engrossed in their game. If he did, he would risk drawing their attention. “I'm unsure that this conversation is entirely appropriate, sir.”

“Of course it's not appropriate. I didn't bring you in here to have a decent chat with you, Mr. Stone. I came to determine whether or not you were how I thought you were.”

“And how his that?”

“_Amicable._” He said it as though it was supposed to clear up any of his doubts. As though that were the simple answer to everything he could possibly wish to know.

Mort had never been more utterly confused in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Mort! xD He has no idea what the hell is going on. Halwill is way too hamfisted for this.


	4. Chapter 4

The interaction he'd had with Halwill was still floating around in his head when he got up the next morning. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the mirror on the vanity across from him wondering just how in the hell he'd gotten himself trapped by a man who wanted to talk about _swords_. And not the Mameluke! He was flushed again in the face, allowing himself to fall back over the crumpled counterpane with his hand over his mouth, contemplating just what in the hell the man could have meant by any of it.

_Amicable._

What did that even mean? A young Alpha saying such odd things to him—could it be that such a prominent Alpha peer found him...attractive? Or perhaps, Mort thought, his heart racing, the man's _wife_ found him somehow alluring?

He'd never been one to attend any parties known for their rampant debauchery but he had known that gentlemen like Halwill and Broadspear were known for their rather depraved little after-season soirees in the country estates. This, he had thought, was _not_ to be one of those week-or-so long adventures. Though, he thought sourly, Headey very much would probably encourage something like that, if only to allow for the Betas to get their “due.” Betas, as it happened, were far more likely to hold their own parties where women and Omegas were seldom seen and the order of the day was the pursuit of calm and gentlemanly avocations.

He almost wished that he could climb right back into bed and remain there for the day but he had promised Headey that he would attend a small gathering that afternoon in the library to discuss the latest publication of a prominent Beta who wrote upon the subject of the disenfranchisement of his own dynamic. It wasn't really that Mort was all that interested in listening to the discussions, it was only that he was expected, as a gentleman, to be just as eager to complain about his own status as everyone else was. It would make no difference if he said nothing at all, he simply had to arrive, pretend to listen and hold interest, and then leave when it was over. The trickiest part about the venture was that if someone asked for his opinion, he had to come up with something serviceable. To his own knowledge, being a Beta had never once come with any sort of disenfranchisement whatsoever. He was still a man, still very pale-skinned, and was actually rather privileged to have had a loving and supportive family. What was there to be unhappy about?

In fact, he rather wished that one day he could perhaps sit in on the meetings of Omegas who sought rights—now those poor dears were the ones who had right to complain!

Suitably distracted, he brought himself up to his feet and dressed for the day, peering in the mirror to make certain his cravat was tied perfectly before he left. Breakfast was a solitary affair this morning thank goodness, though he couldn't say as much about the moments directly after, as he was accosted by the very person he thought he might try to avoid.

Not Halwill, but the _Lady _Halwill. Of course, he thought sardonically. It would come to this, after all.

“Good morning, Mr. Stone,” she greeted, giving him a small curtsy at his bow. “It is a beautiful morning and very warm! I thought I might take a stroll and do so with my daughters in mind. They very much dislike their shoes and so I thought I might wander in the grass without mine. Care to join me?”

He forced a smile to spread across his face. “Oh, I'm afraid I can't possibly. I'm not fond of the texture and surely if I were to go with my shoes on, I might step on your dainty little toes.”

She giggled, her laughter frothing and nearly infectious. He found himself almost laughing along with her, having to clear his throat to avoid it. “Oh, Mr. Stone, you are a naughty man, speculating on the form of my toes. Perhaps I should tell you not to come. Then you might change your mind.”

“I daresay, my Lady, I do not think that the case.”

“No? What if I insist?”

A deep, resounding voice came from just behind him and he stiffened considerably, his heart in his throat as the Viscount himself spoke.

“Mr. Stone, the lady insists.” Halwill chuckled at Mort's startle and came around him. “I trust that you won't look downward too often. I would hate to have to correct your gaze. Though I may forgive one or two indiscretions when it comes to looking at my wife's feet. I understand that's a common malady in odd tastes men can have.”

He supposed it would be useless for him to counter that it was _not_ a malady he was prone toward and instead, he merely gave out a beleaguered sigh and put out his arm to the lady in question, unsurprised when she slipped her hand in the crook of his elbow and slid her slippers off to the side of the terrace. He took her into the grass and took care not to look downward at all, even to keep himself from stepping upon her feet. She would have to be diligent herself, he thought.

Lady Halwill didn't seem all that concerned about it, bringing herself closer to him than was probably prudent before she began to speak to him in a casual and inviting tone. “It is very good to finally get to talk with you, Mr. Stone.”

“Oh? Why is that? I can't imagine I could draw anyone's interest.”

“No? You don't find yourself intriguing?”

He could have scoffed but held it back. “Not in the least, my Lady. When one is as uninteresting as I am, one has to consider the ulterior motives of those who would come to say that the otherwise is true.”

She paused for a moment before glancing up at him. “You certainly don't hold a high opinion of yourself, sir.”

“Is there a reason I should? I always thought it was a virtue of a man to be humble.”

“Humility itself can become a vice if weaponized. Tell me, Mr. Stone, is your humble nature that which has prevented you from mating?”

_Oh dear._

“Do you ask this of me because you have isolated me from the house and you can be safe in the knowledge that whatever I tell you cannot be overheard?” he asked curiously, peering down at her placid expression.

“Perhaps that is the case.”

“Then allow me to counter. Why do you ask? What is the purpose behind your query? I have been unsettled by the course of my conversation with your husband last evening and I am becoming slightly unsettled by this question now. What is your end, my Lady?”

“Oh you are direct, sir.”

“It is a foible of mine, forgive me. I cannot help but be thankful for it sometimes and this time is one of those.”

“Well if you are to ask me to forgive you for this then I should ask you to forgive me when I tell you that the answer to your own question is that I cannot provide one.”

He sniffed out a little laugh. “A woman hoping for clarity who will provide none? I hope, then, that you can survive my keeping my own secrets.”

“Then you admit that there is some other reason for your bachelorhood at your advanced age?” She narrowed her eyes at him, searching him for clues with a look that was giving him gooseflesh.

“I admit nothing. Aside, I've never heard of such a thing—a man without a title or any reason to marry being questioned about his _bachelorhood_. By all rights, I think a man hasn't need for a _reason_ to remain unwed.”

Lady Halwill gave a great sigh. “Oh, you men. It is really no wonder a woman has yet to find you suitable. You're far too argumentative.”

“Claims a woman who's married an Alpha,” he countered lightly, ever-polite even when he found himself very much backed into a corner. “I apologize for seeming impertinent, my Lady. It is only that I can do naught but question your intentions for me. I...I am not normally so accosted by persons younger than I with such strange interrogations. I am beginning to think that I've done something for which I should be punished...if this is the case, pray tell me what it is so that I might rectify it. Am I to be some unwitting victim of _Monte Cristo_?”

She threw back her head and laughed, the sound chiming like bells in the clear air and the action raising her chin and baring the mark on her pretty white throat where Halwill had laid his claim. “Oh gracious, I had not known us to be so intimidating. I do apologize, Mr. Stone. It is only that you are such a darling man and it seems one of our friends has...erm...set their eye upon you, so to speak.”

A rush of relief flooded through him suddenly and he sucked in a heavy breath. “Oh, thank god. I had begun to think that perhaps you were prodding me for some kind of strange experiment or act of retribution.”

She was still laughing even as she spoke. “_Graces, no!_”

“Well...you can tell your friend that I am...well...” He paused and she turned toward him, her gaze imploring while he rubbed the back of his head with his palm. “I am perhaps not the best of prospects. I've not any idea of how I might fit someone else in my life at current and I'm woefully unprepared for the notion of settling down. Not only that but I am an old dog and very much set in my ways.”

She was smiling at him. It was an unnerving little smile though he couldn't place why. She was so _kind_ in everything, including this little gesture and he couldn't imagine how he could ever think her as unsettling. But there it was. It was sinking into his gut as she stared up at him with her clear, lovely eyes, soaking him in to gauge whether or not she might accept this excuse of his. In reality, he wasn't exactly certain how much he, himself, could swallow of it. Ever since Malcolm had remarried the Baron, Rainton, he had found the house very much empty and himself very much alone.

_Am I lonely? Does it show in my face even if I cannot admit to it myself?_

He supposed he must have been lonely. After all, hardly any of the Betas came to visit him in his home. He always had to go out to their parties. Not only this, but he was a favorite among the widows who, he was certain, sought to take him to their bed after the night was through. They worked on him through their subtle touches and sensitive wordings but he had never felt anything toward such an arrangement and thus had never entered into one. Mort Stone simply did not consider himself a very _intimate_ Beta. But sometimes...he wished he was.

Lady Halwill puffed out a little breath through her nose. “Mr. Stone, do you not think yourself to be of a progressive sort? You did, after all, allow Rainton to marry your brother-in-law.”

“I was very much against that,” he stated directly. “I thought him a rake and a scoundrel.”

“Were you against their _intimacy_ or were you against their _marriage?_”

He blinked. “Oh. Well...their intimacy mostly. I think I've quite gotten over it now that they're married. Though he still vexes me. He's quite a bit younger than Malcolm.”

“Would you not take a lover who was quite a bit younger than you, Mr. Stone?”

His fingers were tingling. “Oh dear. How young is your friend?”

“Rather young,” she admitted. “Older than Rainton...perhaps by a year or two.”

“You won't get me to agree to something just because she's young. I'm not some kind of lecher.”

She laughed again, her giggles this time truly infectious, spreading into him until he was chuckling with her. “Oh Mr. Stone, you are such a delightfully direct Beta. I wish I knew more men like you. All the rest of them seem so secretive.”

“They do not yet know the power of forthrightness,” he replied, laughing despite himself. “What is her name, this girl who has set her eye upon me?”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“If you cannot tell me that, then I cannot ever consider her.”

She walked around him, swishing her skirts as she did so, collecting dew upon the hems. “If you do wish to become acquainted with her, I think she will have to be placed so that you will have every opportunity to face her. She is an anxious sort, you see. She must find herself with no other choice but to speak with you. It is for the best, you understand.”

Confusion settled over him in finely crafted lace but he nodded anyhow. “Very well. I suppose you fancy yourself the orchestrator of such meetings. I will leave you to it. Clearly this girl is of great import to you and your husband for you to prance about it so.”

“She is,” the lady replied easily. “In fact, she is one of our most precious friends. Take care you do nothing to hurt her, Mr. Stone.”

He swallowed, hearing the clear threat in her words. The attempt to put it out of his mind was successful for the most part but as the day wore on, he was increasingly aware of his surroundings and the people who found themselves by his side. Were they intentionally placed there? Was there a girl who was looking at him? He couldn't see one who passed him coy glances or even smiled at him more warmly than all the others. Though he wished he could look around more often, he kept finding himself catching the mostly-annoyed expression of Griggsby who still had not yet relinquished his grudge, it seemed.

_I am a fool to remain. Though I am curious as to this girl and her attraction to me, I do not think it wise for me to stay in a man's house when he so clearly wishes me gone. Though, if he has not stated otherwise, it would be unfair of him to assume that I should discover this on my own. He will have to say something to me should he wish my departure. After all..._

His cheeks warmed. He thought about waking up to birds chirping and warmth in his bed. Company after so long without was something he wasn't certain he could fathom. Being close and holding someone as the sun rose and glinted over the horizon—that was something a younger Mort Stone might have fantasized about and now here he was fantasizing again. It could be real. It could happen to him. But only if he stayed. So of course he did.

As much as he was expecting to be approached the whole of the day, he still managed to mostly stay alone, avoiding Headey as much as he could in order to not draw any more undue attention on himself. It wasn't entirely unexpected when he was given rather dull dinner companions—all men—and he was somewhat alone in the drawing room that evening as most of the guests had decided to play a game of hide and seek outside in the gardens. No doubt an excuse to tryst, if they had become lucky enough to do so. Having never come across the young lady that was supposedly interested in him, Mort's patience wore thin and he found himself at least four or five glasses of claret deep before he noticed that he kept touching his nose while he read his book—a sure sign that he had clearly drank too much.

_I am only prone to drinking so much when I am given a reason to hope only to have it slowly torn away from me bit by bit. If the girl cannot come to me tonight of her own volition, then I will be forced to leave on the morrow for my own estate and nothing will have changed._

He wasn't certain whether that last bit—that nothing will have changed—was something he was glad of or something he held in a rather dim regard. After all—everything could have changed. But for a Beta? Perhaps nothing was better.

All at once, the guests began to crowd again into the parlor, some of them a little more damp than they were when they went outside and Mort found himself entirely distracted from his reading by the sudden cacophony of voices that were around him, laughing and shouting at each other. He hardly had time to ask them what in the world they were doing inside when someone mentioned offhandedly what should have been obvious had Mort not been completely pickled already—it was raining. Forced inside, the group decided that they would continue their hide-and-seek.

“But who shall be the one to seek?” asked a pretty little Omega who eyed Lord Griggsby mischievously, or rather eyed his back as he was busily fixing himself another drink at the side cupboard.

“Oh,” Lady Halwill raised her hand suddenly, “I believe it was my turn to be the seeker!” Oblivious to the girl's chagrin, she happily placed herself in the middle of the room and covered her eyes with her hands, loudly beginning to count.

Mort was jostled this way and that as people began to rush out of the room and soon he found his book on the floor. He hadn't been reading it very much anyhow in the past few minutes and he was pushed to his feet by some unknown assailant and ushered bodily toward the door, the excitement of the moment sweeping over him.

_Oh goodness, gracious, I suppose I will have to hide!_

He stumbled into the door frame at first, his gelatin legs reminding him suddenly of exactly how much he'd had to drink that evening. He must have been ridiculously drunk to have got himself roped into a silly parlor game that had gotten so out-of-control. How fully-grown adults got themselves mixed up in children's games he would never really understand. He was merely glad to have found himself able to stumble down the halls of the estate even after all that claret. He felt his knees become wobbly and he looked this way and that, wondering how in the world he was ever going to find his room after all this was over. After all, how could anyone really be expected to find anyone in this maze of dim hallways? Hide-and-go-seek was certainly not the most intelligent of games to play with a party full of tipsy noblemen.

Mort was brushed past by a few laughing gents and nearly toppled over when a girl giggled and rushed from behind him, her shoulder bumping his elbow as she ran. The hall was twisting in his sight and he had to close his eyes and shake his head to bring it back to rights. Oh devil, he was _pissed_. It was likely that he'd never been this drunk before and the thought made him somewhat embarrassed, as he should have been. It was all of this nonsense, he thought bitterly. Griggsby having given him nasty looks and Halwill having probed him in such odd fashion! He was anxious and whenever he was anxious, he drank too much! Perhaps _this_ was why he preferred to stay home.

He'd gotten too lost in his thoughts and gasped audibly when he was approached from behind, believing himself caught by Lady Halwill. Instead of her, however, he caught the scent of her husband and found his shoulders taken in large hands.

"Mr. Stone, you've not hidden yet? Here, come with me. I've the perfect spot." He hurried him through another unfamiliar hallway until a door was opened and Mort was pushed unceremoniously into a cramped linen closet, the door shutting before he'd even realized that upon his entry, he had been tossed into another body.

"Oh graces," Mort mumbled as he fumbled with the other who was inside the closet with him, an Alpha by the smell of him and rather shocked if the tones in his scent could give it away. "I'm terribly sorry, it seems our host thought that it would be a decent enough idea for me to hide here and this is...well...your spot so I should be g-going then..." He found his shoulders handled in quite the same way and expected himself to be thrown bodily out the door—in fact, he expected so far as to go rather limp in expecting it—but was surprised to hear a quiet voice respond instead.

"Mr. Stone?"

_Oh no... _he groaned inwardly. "Griggsby?"

"Why...yes..."

There were a few seconds in which Mort couldn't decide what in the world was going on. He'd been tossed into a closet and was, from toe to tip, sidled as close as a man could get to another man. Not only this but the Alpha's scent was not angered or irritated but was, instead, nervous and...pleased?

_Oh my god. Is that his...his...??? _

Mort dared not move his thigh, knowing that the rather rigid protrusion that was tucked up against it could be nothing else save the Alpha's impressive manhood that was, for some odd reason, becoming hard. 

_He's aroused? Now?!_

"I am..." _Mortified._ "I am so sorry, my Lord." His voice trailed into a whisper at the end as he reached out a hand for the closet door's handle, searching about while the Alpha held him still by the grip on his shoulders. "I...I must be going..." His cheek was pressed against the starched fabric of the man's cravat and he couldn't see the man's face though the expression of dawning horror must have been present much as it was for him.

"Wait...Mr. Stone...I..."

Seconds passed and Mort quit groping for the door handle, his mind buzzing and curiosity leading him to quietude.

"Mr. Stone, I am quite drunk. And I find that it must be this way."

"It must?" he asked, his heart beating hard in his chest.

"It must. For I could not bear to tell you any other way. I fear that this meeting has been...manufactured...and yet I cannot be angered by it. I am...a very odd Alpha. Perhaps broken, though I do not feel as though I am..."

Mort's mind was spiraling, scrambling for any kind of hint as to what in the world the man could have been on about. "I don't...I don't understand, sir."

"Of course you don't. Please...do not take this the wrong way sir and please know that if you tell anyone of what I've said to you here, I will make certain of it that not a soul shall believe you..."

"Am...Am I in danger, sir?"

"N-No! No...I...I didn't mean to...to give that impression. It is only that I am about to..."

"About to what, sir?" He felt as though his heart may just very well thunder straight out of his body at this point, the tension inside him about as potent as the arousal in the Alpha's scent.

"Oh for goodness sake," Griggsby mumbled, his grip upon Mort's shoulders strengthening as he manipulated him so that he might come face-to-face with him. But it was more than a simple face-to-face Mort discovered as he was pulled forward again. As he sought to protest, his teeth clacked together with Griggsby's as he was fumbled into an awkward and painful first kiss.

"Mmmff..." he tried, unsure if he was protesting or not. Despite its rough beginnings, the kiss was, in a whole...rather sweet. When he was loosed from it, he tried to gather his bearings and his thoughts but his knees had somehow become quite weak beneath him. Raising his hand to his mouth, he tried to regard the Alpha through the darkness, knowing his own expression must have been that of utter shock. "M-My Lord..." In his drunken state, he seemed to stumble over his words. "I...I'm not an...an O-Omega..."

"I know, Mr. Stone. And yet I...I don't care. If you do tell anyone about this...well..._please don't._ That is...I don't think I could bear it. Should you wish never to speak of it again, that is acceptable. But I...I must admit that if you were to discover that you reciprocated my feelings...I-I..." He lost himself there, his grip on Mort's shoulders falling away. "I would very much appreciate it."

_Appreciate it._ Mort rubbed at his lips, frowning hard. An Alpha and a Beta? Men? Together? It put a strange feeling in his guts. "My Lord, I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." His scent had become flat suddenly and Mort realized that the man obviously took this as a rejection. _Well. Shouldn't he? _ He reached out and grasped the closet door handle and made to turn it before Mort reached out to stop him.

"Wait."

A tense moment followed and before Mort could truly get a handle on himself, he had already grasped at Griggsby's cravat, dragging him down for another kiss.

This one was not quite so sloppy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday, everyone. The holiday season is going to crush me. But thank you all for your encouragement and your comments. I will get to them and answer them as I have the time. :D Thank you so much.


	5. Chapter 5

Mortimer Stone was kissing him. Of his own volition. His heart was pounding hard in his chest and he hoped—oh god, he hoped—that it wasn't just all the drink the man had consumed that was making him allow Tris a moment in heaven. That he was a Beta had become more and more secondary as the days had passed. He wasn't absolutely certain what about this man had made his blood simmer with lust but perhaps it was just _everything. _He wasn't any sort of Adonis but his gray hair was definitively attractive and for the life of him, he couldn't stop thinking about the way the droplets of water in his chest hair had glimmered in the sun. He wanted to brush his fingers over all of his body and feel the crisp softness beneath his fingers. He wanted to know the true warmth of passion in this man's arms.

A Beta? Nothing in Tris's life had ever suggested that one day he would make such a concession or even have the need to make such a concession. He'd spent so many nights at Blakely's chasing the elusive emotion he'd been roughly stripped of as a boy, letting Alphas he barely knew hold him..._or hold him down... _He'd never thought once that a Beta should have this much control over his thoughts or his feelings. That he could allow for a man to which he had never spoken draw so much of his attention and his fantasy. He wanted. He wanted Mort Stone to be sensible and logical. He wanted him to use his soft, mild Beta voice to tell Tris to take off his clothes and get on a bed. He wanted this man to tell him what to do.

“Mmm...” Tris groaned, still kissing eagerly but trying not to take too much control. It was likely that the man was fairly certain that Tris wanted all the command between them—it was a misconception he would have to clear up right now. Despite the cramped nature of the closet, he held the man's shoulders and gently pulled away, sinking down as best he could until he was on his knees, his legs having to spread dramatically to accommodate the Beta between them. He relished the soft aroma of confusion in the Beta's drunken scent and sighed with great pleasure at the touch of the man's hand over the side of his head while he unfastened his trousers. He had assumed that Stone would have been relatively soft but was pleasantly surprised to find him quite hard indeed, his breaths coming harder as his velvet flesh was cradled in Tris's grip.

Tris's voice was soft and rasping as he gave Stone loving strokes, happily finding the man to be of a decent length—one that could, in theory, please him. “_I want you to tell me what to do._”

Stone let out a small, incredulous chuckle. “_You want me to what?_”

“_I want you to tell me what to do. I want your command, Beta..._”

“_A strange Alpha..._” he mumbled.

He smiled, humored, and then pressed his lips against the side of his Beta's manhood, bestowing upon it slow and teasing kisses. “_Tell me, please...I want you to own me._”

“_Own you?_” His breath hitched a bit with every kiss Tris placed over his most sensitive organ and finally, through the darkness and the heaviness of his breathing, he sighed, “_Please...put me in your mouth..._”

Tris obeyed immediately, familiar with the musky pleasure of taking another man to his throat. He had been taught well. The first time he had ever done something like this, he was fumbling and terrible. He had not known what to do with his tongue. He had not known what to do with his hands. He had been coached and had listened and obeyed diligently for pleasing was his pleasure—or at least, it became so. Being only fifteen, he had been a very pliable and impressionable boy—and those lessons had very clearly stayed, cemented into his mind by constant repetition.

“_Oh my god..._” Stone breathed, both his hands now in Tris's hair, stroking him while he moved. “_I've got to be out of my mind...oh graces..._”

Tris supposed that upon the eventual rise of the morning sun, Mr. Stone was going to be supremely disturbed with what had happened to him in this closet, but he couldn't stop himself. It could have been the drink that led the Beta to kiss him but really, when it came down to it, a man didn't kiss another man unless there was something tingling within him that whispered its forbidden lust and fought tooth and nail against conventional morality. This Beta was not out of his mind at all, Tris thought as he sucked and stroked to the best of his ability, he was merely upon the precipice of discovery.

Everything he'd known to be true about Mort Stone swirled together into the realization that the man had not taken a lover in a very long time. This fact was even more apparent when his fingers gripped into the Alpha's hair and he let out a strangled groan, his cock twitching in the back of Tris's throat.

Experienced in this matter, Tris held his breath and relaxed as best he could, taking Mort's spend and, when he was released, allowing it to dribble from his throat into his mouth so that he could swallow it properly. The pleasured tingle in his gut from having managed to get this Beta to use him was welling up, bubbling in his chest as he gave Stone's manhood a gentle and loving little kiss goodbye.

“_Am I disgusting to you, Mr. Stone?_”

“_Disgusting?_” he murmured back, “_N-no...no..._”

Tris tucked him back into his trousers and moved to press his head against the man's lower stomach. “_Let me take you somewhere..._”

“_Somewhere less cramped, I hope..._”

He chuckled, easing himself up until he could open the door, peering this way and that to ascertain that the coast was clear before he took Stone by the hand and pulled him into the hall, guiding him toward the library. It was fairly easy to avoid the peril of others seeing them, at least until they were within the library itself. It was easy to smell the hidden arousal of a tryst occurring in the corner behind the large teak wood desk but if they could sneak past unnoticed, it would not matter in the least that another couple was there.

Stone crept close behind him, obviously aware as well that they were not alone, and when Tris turned to him and silently raised a finger to his lips he nodded severely. He led the man around the opposite side of the room from the lovers until they were obscured by one of the free-standing bookshelves that were scattered about the large library. A solid-looking gap of wall where no bookshelves recessed into it was hidden behind the free-standing shelves, the dark wood engraved with a peaceful-looking lion who did not rise up with his claws or teeth bared but instead peered regally over his shoulder, his eye wise and searching. The tip of his tail curled toward a cleverly concealed lever which could only be pulled after it had once been pressed in with a not insignificant amount of pressure. This security measure had likely been in place from the moment the house had been constructed by grandfather and though the chamber's original purpose had been lost to history, its purpose now had been established well by Tris's uncle from whom he had inherited the title.

It wasn't large by any means but it was far larger than a closet, filled with shelves that lined the walls which were still in the course of being filled with articles and books Tris would find on his journeys to the capital. Large vellum books with artwork inside were stacked on a small table that sat nearby a relatively large couch that had often served as a bed for him in the past when he could hardly stand his mother's harping and had to find respite somewhere. A quilt lay folded at the end of it and two down pillows lay off to the side.

Stone whispered to him as the heavy, concealed wall swung shut and clicked behind him. “_How novel...does anyone else know of this?_”

“You needn't be quiet anymore...this room lets out no secrets. You would have to scream rather loudly for anyone to hear you.” He turned to Stone after lighting a lamp off to the side and raised his hand up, reluctant to touch him while his instinct cried out for him to comfort the man in any way he could. “I apologize...for...having been so distant. It is only that I have been very vexed by you. I normally...well, to be honest, I couldn't believe myself attracted to you.”

Stone didn't seem nonplussed at all about the confession and merely looked at him curiously, the alcohol he'd consumed still dulling his eyes. “Pardon, Alpha, but I still cannot see why you should find me in any way desirable.”

“May I touch you, Beta?”

“I...alright.”

He took Stone's shoulders in his large hands and leaned to kiss him, pressing forward and feeling his heart skip when the man's hands came to Tris's chest, grasping at him as though to keep him from drawing away. He could feel his lips tingling, shocks of pleasure and arousal coursing through his blood, sparkling in his loins and drawing a fire out of his scent. Despite having just brought the Beta to orgasm, he could smell the first stirrings of a renewed passion within his mildness. His kisses drew and pushed, teasing until he could coax the man to press with his tongue and Tris immediately tried to become submissive, hoping that Stone could feel his need to be taken and pushed and controlled.

When the kiss ended, the Beta was breathing heavily, his passion again strong for he had been given a taste of ardor after a long time without, no doubt. His body had to get used to the idea that it was welcome to indulge in its more wild and willful pursuits. “Alpha...what should I do?”

“Anything. I want to be used by you.”

Stone gave out a small, breathless and incredulous laugh. “I cannot imagine...”

“Do not imagine. I'm here. Real.” He pressed his own hand over Stone's where it was against his heartbeat. “I am unfathomably lucky to have tempted you, Beta...I am hardly worthy of you...I want you to hold me down. I want you to take me. I want to be powerless in your hold.”

“But...why?”

He grinned, mostly to himself. “Do I need reason? I hope I do not, I could not find one if I made the attempt. You have banished all reason from my soul. From the very moment I first saw you, half nude in the water...I have been taken in by you. Enchanted. As though you were some fey king out to put your spell over me.”

“I cannot be so enchanting, surely,” Stone argued, his tone far too sensible for the moment. “I am only a Beta, after all.”

“'Only a Beta,'” he breathed softly, “could make me shiver with such anticipation for his touch. It is true that in my life, I had thought myself immune to the charms of Beta men—but here I am and I beg of you, Mortimer Stone..._fuck me._”

This seemed to do the trick nicely. Stone's resolve was fully formed and his nostrils flared, his gaze hardening. “W-Well...present then. Present for me, Alpha.”

“Yes, sir.” He pulled away, keeping steady eye contact while he disrobed. When he dropped his trousers and his underthings to the floor and his full and rock hard erection bobbed between his legs, he was pleased to note that Stone couldn't help but look, his eyes flicking over it with clear intimidation. But Tris's size really didn't matter. Not for what he wanted. He turned then, climbing on the couch until he could lean with his forearms on the raised arm, arching his back so that his rump was fully accessible. With a provocative glance, he looked back at the still-dressed Stone. “There is lubricant in the drawer there...I'll do it myself, if you'd like...”

“That might be best...for now...” he replied, reaching for it and finding it easily, holding it in his hand while he stared down into the drawer he'd just opened. “...my Lord, is...is this room...” He looked around then, peering over the books upon the shelves and the art that lay in the books open around him.

Tris snickered through his nose. “My uncle was very much like me. This was his collection until I inherited it. The collection of a sodomite, Mr. Stone...and I won't apologize for having added to it over the years. I discovered it after having come into the title and the estate and I consider myself rather lucky indeed for that alone.”

“Fascinating,” he supplied easily, turning back to where Tris was still posed. “I...I am very intrigued by all this, I hope you know.”

“Good. Perhaps you might not be horrified come the morning.”

He smiled bashfully as he handed over the lubricant and watched Tris open it and apply it to himself. “I believe, Alpha, I've sobered up a little if only from the touch of a man's lips upon me. I think that would be one of those things to have that sort of effect.” He removed his cravat and folded it neatly, discarding each article of his clothing in the same fashion, very elegantly stacking them together so that he might be able to don them again without wrinkles come morning—or whenever he sought to leave. When he was completely nude, his mild scent was nearly overwhelmed by Tris's rampant lust. Despite this, he looked rather comfortable with himself and it was that confidence that was driving the Alpha wild. He took the offered lubricant and tipped it to pour some in his palm, applying it to himself—his manhood stiff again and the musk of him holding an overt excitement.

“God, you're a handsome man, Stone.”

“I appreciate the sentiment...but I will have to disagree with you. I am hardly the most attractive man at this event. Why pursue me? Do I look like a man who could easily be converted? If so, I suppose your eye is sharp in that regard...I cannot believe what I'm about to do and yet I most certainly will not stop myself.” He laughed at himself even as he approached, his warm hand touching Tris's hip and sending shocks through his spine. With nearly no trepidation at all, he adjusted Tris so that he was a bit lower and rested his manhood in the cleft of his ass.

“Mmm...Beta...tease me.”

Stone was chuckling again. “Tease you...oh...I am not usually so callous a lover...or at least, I wasn't.” He tapped his length up and down, patting Tris's entrance with it gently before he ran the backs of his fingers down the Alpha's inner thigh, causing his heavy member to jump between his legs. “Mmm, you are a very good boy. I suppose what's caught me off guard is your youth but I should know that it is youth which gives you such courage in approaching me. You Alphas are all so hideously reckless.”

He closed his eyes, focusing hard upon the man's fingers which still trailed against his sensitive flesh. “I had to have you...”

“And so now you do. You are so young. I will count myself lucky. A fresh, sweet Alpha who wishes to have me inside him.”

Tris grinned again. “And here I thought you might be timid.”

“Do I have reason to be timid now? I have you bent over like a darling little Omega and I'm about to plow you like one as well...who in my position could still be timid?”

“Fair enough,” he replied, sighing into a groan as he felt the breach of the Beta's cock sinking into him. “_Mmmm...Beta..._”

Stone's hands gripped his hips, holding him and guiding him until he was rocking forward and back at a steady pace. It was nothing like being speared open by the incredible girth of an Alpha but Stone was big enough that he could feel the pleasure washing over him with every stroke, building upon itself over and over until it was singing in his soul. Their gentle sounds floated around them, masculine and quiet among the soft slapping of their flesh and Tris found he was gripping the edge of the couch tight, emotions rippling through him until there was nothing left that he could feel beyond the powerful contentment of having been possessed.

“_Own me, Beta. Oh god...please. Make me yours._”

He quickened the pace, adjusting his position until he could thrust harder and at a more severe angle which, of course, Tris very much appreciated. After having a go at him like that for a little while, he pulled and gave an order which had the Alpha near floating with ecstasy.

“Lie on your back. I want to see you come apart.”

Eager to please, he scrambled up, laying back with a pillow behind his head and keeping his legs propped up and spread. “Will you touch me, sir?”

“Will you be well behaved?”

“I will do anything.”

“Then I suppose I will touch you.” He entered him easily, peering down over him with a queer bit of confidence in his eyes that was about to send Tris over the moon. It was easy for Alphas to gain that sort of dominance when it was requested of them but he hadn't expected this from a man like Stone—from a Beta, of all men. He leaned over, setting a decent pace with his hips that had Tris giving out quiet keens before he placed his hand around the Alpha's large member, stroking him with some difficulty as it was very big and his hand didn't quite fit around it. This was enough to cause Tris to gasp, the glimmering pleasure that shot up from his groin piling on top of that which had already accumulated from the patient thrusting of his lover.

“_Oh god...oohhhh...it feels so good. Please. Uhhnn!_” He lifted his hands above his head and gripped at the couch arm, keeping himself as steady as he could so that the rocking might pierce him deeper. “_Uh! Uh! Uh! Beta! Please! I'm going to come!_” Of course, just as he proclaimed it, he felt a hand close over his throat and for a second, there was panic before he immediately calmed, the squeeze not one that was to cut off his air but tight about the sides of his throat as though to restrict his very blood.

“Shhhh...”

“_Beta..._”

“Shhhh.” It was not a request. It was a command. Stone was still fucking him, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting the only noise in his ears as his vision began to dim at the sides. “_Come for me, Alpha. Come all over yourself like the dirty little boy you are._”

There was a part of Tris that suddenly realized how absolutely ridiculous it was to have assumed that Mort Stone was going to be horrified at what had transpired between them when the sun rose. As the hand on his throat loosened, an awareness and pleasure rushed into his body and his brain at such a speed that he could not help but yelp out as his body convulsed in orgasm. He came so hard that ropes of spend spurted in white globs onto his own face and neck, at least a little bit ended up in his mouth, coppery and thick. He grunted when the Beta released him and when he pulled out of him, a small amount of spend trickling out after. His breath was too heavy for him to speak and so he merely watched the man as he took a small, clean towel that was nearby on the table and smell it before he proceeded to clean himself off.

Stone appeared as though he wished to say something and then thought better of it, passing a glance over Tris for a second, taking in the messy state of him, panting and used. He opened one of the vellum books and peered at the sketches—all of them erotic and featuring the depictions of men and boys in various states of undress and coitus.

“My uncle,” Tris began, “was a bit of a lecher. He preferred boys. I prefer men.”

Stone sighed. “I think it begs the question...”

“Yes?”

“Do the boys who whet the palate of the lechers grow up to prefer boys...or men?”

Tris studied him intently, a mixture of humor and despair roiling in his chest. “Are you asking after my own experience? I've just answered.” He swallowed hard, wiping his semen from his face and neck with his discarded cravat while he sat up. “It...wasn't my uncle. He was very kind. Harmless, really. Rent boys were to his taste—not me.”

Stone's scent was muddled with complex emotions but it was difficult to discern them for its inherent mildness. “Who was it?”

“If you think for a moment that I was not born like this, that I was made this way by someone, you can put it out of your mind.” There was a tiny bubble of anger that seemed to dissipate as soon as Stone looked at him again. “I have always been like this. I did not meet men who would touch me until I was already an Alpha and already well-aware of my preferences...I simply happened to present at fifteen.”

“Fifteen,” Stone breathed, shaking his head. “That is too young to be noticed by a man.”

He laughed through his nose. “Tell that to a very randy young Tristan Blackwell.” He leaned on the side of the couch and pulled his feet up beside him. “Are you going to gawk at me and my life for the rest of the evening? Are you going to put space between us like this? Have I scandalized you?”

“Forgive me,” Stone told him quietly, still peering through the vellum pages. “These must be rather rare finds.”

“Certainly. Most families who find these hidden in their walls would burn them immediately. Ever since I found this room, I've been adding to it.”

“Where do you find these things?”

“Here and there,” he lied. It wasn't a complete lie. After all, they did come from here and there—they were merely spoken of and passed around often by the patrons of Blakely's. It was, no doubt, the most centralized hub for erotic materials and Alphas willing to find extra partners for a night. “They find their way to me and I keep an eye out for them.”

Stone nodded and then shut the book, taking decisive steps toward him until he was standing in front of him, naked and well-formed. He did not flinch when Tris raised his hand to touch him, only watching when the Alpha pressed a warm palm against his stomach.

“I adore this fur you have, Beta.”

He raised a brow. “I've fielded many a sly comment about that very thing in my time. Most young ladies think it awkward to have so much of it. Some days I feel practically like an animal.”

Tris grinned, sliding his hand upward until he could feel the man's chest hair in the spaces between his fingers. “Oh no. As I said, I'm not fond of boys—I'm fond of _men._ You are most decidedly a _man_, Mr. Stone.”

“Mort, if you don't mind. I think we're past formalities.”

“Tris...though don't let anyone hear you say it but me...”

A brief smile flashed over his mouth. “Tris. But only between us.”

“Do you like that, Mort?”

“Come to think of it...I believe I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first started writing this, I certainly didn't give Mort enough credit.
> 
> Also: Despite that this was my true Nano project, I had to win by writing all my other projects for which I have real deadlines. So this one is obviously going to be working its way into December...xD I have plenty of it written...for the record. I'm trying to determine if Scrivener is worth getting. I can't tell yet from the free trial.


	6. Chapter 6

Mort felt like the next morning came in a bit of a haze. He woke in the large bed he had stayed in during the whole of his stay at Griggsby's estate and he was alone despite that he could swear for much of it, he hadn't been. He turned his head on his pillow, staring at the window which was covered mostly by thick curtains, letting in only the slightest sliver of gray morning light. He could smell him—_Tris._ Their sweat and scents had mingled together in their firm embrace and he turned his gaze back up toward the heavy brocade that sloped over the top of the bed.

He'd never considered an affair with an Alpha. Or a man, for that matter. Though, he thought, he'd not really considered very much of _anything_. The Betas very often were intimidated by his ability to speak quite plainly and he'd not much luck with any girl aside from the occasional widow who thought to take a liking to him. But widows were often not interested in mateship.

His brain took a great and lengthy pause. _You can't mate an Alpha._

Mort sat up, the covers rustling and letting out more of his scent than Tris's, mingling it in a way that was not only palatable but also distinctly arousing. Blood began to flood south to his nethers and he smiled a bit while he stared down at the depression upon the pillow where he thought he could imagine the Alpha resting.

How had they gotten back to Mort's room? The details were slightly fuzzy though as his hand came to his chest, he recalled very well how much Tris had appreciated that part of him—notably the soft dark blonde hair that covered him. Recalling such an aspect of their coupling had him very pink in the cheeks indeed.

An inquiring knock came to the chamber door and Mort admitted the servant who had come, watching several of them carrying a hip bath and hot water from downstairs.

“A bath for you sir. Will you need assistance?” asked the young Beta who had first knocked.

“No...thank you.” He rubbed at his face and his eyes. It wasn't entirely clear to him how Tris had managed to come so far with this peculiarity without anyone in the household knowing about it and so he waited for them all to leave, trying to keep himself in the bed as long as he could so as not to waft the Alpha's scent about the room. Servants were a bit nosy in that regard and though he kept nearly no secrets from his own staff, it seemed to him that an Alpha lord might have had far more reason to keep anyone from knowing anything about him such as this. When the servants were gone, he slid out of bed, peering down at himself and testing the soreness of his lips by pressing them together with his teeth.

_Mort Stone, you absolute madman. You were practically uncontrolled. Though...that did seem as though it was what the gentleman wished._

He sank into the bath and hissed at the heat of the water, utilizing the soap liberally until he could no longer smell the Alpha on any of himself, much as it annoyed him to do so. He found that he quite liked the spice and fire of Tris's scent all over him.

_How am I going to explain this to Hudsward?_

Hudsward, being his new and exceptional housekeeper ever since his brother-in-law had gotten married and was no longer running his home, was bound to know. It wasn't as though he could keep anything from the short and sly little Omega who had come and discovered just about everything about Mort in the very first week of having come. He'd discovered that Mort Stone was absolutely boring in every possible way, having had to stifle quite a few yawns when it came to his ramblings about historical fact and the heritage of his father's many swords. He'd also discovered how much Mort was fond of lemon cakes and had gone out of his way to make them whenever he'd done something that he thought Mort might have taken issue with—such a installing a new wallpaper in various rooms. Mort was never really cross but he did appreciate the lemon cakes, which made it easier to pretend to be miffed even when the wallpaper was very nice indeed.

The good news was that there were still days left of this party and he was soaking in a hip bath which, at the very least, could sooth at least a few of his more well-used muscles. Unfortunately, he couldn't sink down and relieve some of the others he had utilized much of last night, leaving them sore and stiff. Damned young Alphas and their stamina, he inwardly grumbled.

When he emerged from his room, clean and warm and properly dressed, he wandered toward the stairs and descended, coming into the front hall where there were a few Omega ladies wearing their riding habits and preparing to go on a nice brisk morning ride. The thought of a ride along with his aching muscles made him cringe and so he avoided the conversation he knew would arise if he engaged them and disappeared as Betas very often did and did well, slinking toward the garden instead where he found a table with breakfast meats and eggs for those participating in archery on the lawn.

He ate well, famished after the amount of work he'd done the previous evening. God, he hadn't sweat like that since he was young. Trying to piece together the events of the evening, he scanned the lawn in search of his lover, wondering just how well the events had aged in Tris's mind. Perhaps the man would have gotten everything he needed from Mort and would require nothing more. Perhaps he had found Mort to be distasteful upon waking and filtering through the recollection of their time together. Perhaps it was for the best that they not continue their frolicking.

Well, of course it was for the best, but sometimes what was for the best wasn't what a man wished for. It certainly wasn't what Mort wished for. He'd gotten a very large taste of what it meant to feel powerful last evening and he wasn't certain how he could go on without a similar event in his near future. It wasn't the sort of power he imagined having over someone small—an Omega, for instance. It was really in having such control over a man who could easily rise up and lift him with just one hand and potentially crush him...but who wouldn't. Because of something inside that Alpha that yearned to be submissive.

He blinked, marveling at the concept. He had never known it possible for an Alpha to be anything but dominant and intimidating. He had never known any Alpha to show weakness—especially to a Beta. But it made sense, didn't it? He, himself, was plagued by a streak of recklessness and dominance that was unnatural for a Beta's method of being and instinct. He knew plenty of Betas who exhibited traits that were unbecoming of them—why not Alphas? Why not Omegas? Why not anyone, for that matter? Edwin Penberth was quite Alpha-like in stature though not in demeanor and his handsome mate was _very much_ like an Alpha who strained against the confines of an Omega's limitations. He'd met so many dynamics who broke through the timeless myths of instinct...why not Tris?

Mort bit through another rasher and polished it off easily, hoping that he might encounter the man again and share tonight with him. He very much would like to explore more of his collection of literature but felt that accessing such a secretive space without his host would be a dangerous breach of etiquette. He was interested in what he suspected was a niche subculture of Alphas who created and engaged in such content, utilizing it in order to find and connect even across distances with others who held similar tastes. It was enlightening, he thought, to find something like this sitting just below the awareness of most of London. It was something he knew of but hadn't really known until now. The church, of course, was always and forever griping about such _sins_ and the like but Mort hadn't really placed any serious regard upon it until now. Until a man had touched him intimately and he had accepted that touch with openness. It certainly wasn't the devil who had placed his mouth to Mort last night. And if it was—Mort was going hell.

“Good morning, Beta,” came a low and deep voice from behind him and he turned about to find Lord Halwill staring down at him, a pleasant smile a facade for the apparent curiosity in his scent. “Did you have a pleasant evening?”

Was the question a trap? It had been Halwill who had shoved him into the closet last night, hadn't it been? Was the man a sort of confidante to Tris? Was he friend...or was he foe?

Mort swallowed and then cleared his throat. “Yes. Very pleasant.” It suddenly dawned upon him then what Halwill had most likely meant when he had been discussing “swords” with him only a few evenings ago. _Halwill knows._ He took in a nervous breath. “My Lord...it seems that you've a very keen sense.”

“How's that?”

Mort looked about, making certain that there was no one within earshot. “I find that in the right circumstances, I can be very..._amicable._”

Halwill's curiosity vanished and was replaced with a pooling satisfaction. “That is wonderful to hear, Mr. Stone. You're a very decent fellow and I'm glad to know it.”

For some reason, the compliment struck him and he felt a golden light of ease spread in his belly. “You're not competing this morning, my Lord?”

“Archery isn't my strength. I prefer things that use brute force to complete. It is natural to like things that one is good at, is it not?”

“I suppose you're right. Which is why I must enjoy things that appeal to my intellect...I have hardly enough stamina for...” he stopped suddenly, wondering where the hell he was going with that. He knew where the pervert in him wished to go with it and he couldn't seem to bring himself back to the subject it was meant for.

Halwill was chuckling. “That doesn't surprise me about you, Mr. Stone. Take pleasure in your reading, Mr. Stone. I think you'll have much to choose from if Griggsby introduces you to the favorites of his collection. I hear he's amassed a plethora of rare novels.”

“He has,” Mort replied, unthinking.

Halwill appeared pleasantly surprised, turning to watch the Betas shoot at the targets. “Ah. You must be _very_ amicable indeed for him to take such a liking to you already. Pray you do not betray him, Mr. Stone. I will be very cross about it for he is a dear friend of mine.”

Tingles of warning began to spread down his spine and he nodded. “Of course, my Lord.”

“Very good. I should make myself scarce. I would not wish him to think me too much of a meddler.” He passed Mort a cheeky little wink before he crossed the lawn toward where his wife was sitting and watching the competition and Mort watched him go, in awe and how easily the man got exactly what he wished and how he so succinctly told the Beta exactly what to do without really saying it.

_Make him happy, for he is not happy now._

He jumped slightly at the sound of the next voice that came from behind him and when he turned about, he found Tris standing close to him, his smile soft and inviting. “Good morning, Mr. Stone.”

He smiled wide. “Good morning, my Lord.”

“Enjoying your breakfast? I hope you did not think me impudent for sending you a bath. I thought...well...” His ears gained a shade of pink that was very becoming and Mort felt a stirring in his chest of clear affection which didn't surprise him in the least. He was bound to find affection with a man who had shared his bed.

“I will thank you for it. Though...I do wish circumstances could have led me toward going without.”

His ears grew even more pink and it spread to his cheeks. “Had I known you as a flatterer, I might have approached you sooner.”

“I don't recall having been approached,” Mort teased lightly. “I recall more of a crashing...”

“You must misremember,” Tris replied facetiously, laughing a bit. “I thought myself very dignified.”

“Mmm,” he replied before he chuckled. “History must always suffer for the pride of Alphas, I think.”

“No doubt,” he agreed.

There was, then, a comfortable silence that spread between them as they looked over at the archery across the lawn. Though Mort was content within it, he could feel an underlying question rising to the surface as though a bubble rising, amorphous to the mouth of a bottle.

Tris spoke softly. “Would you like to...”

“I think we should take a ride,” he offered, interrupting the man. “To my home. Where there are not so many people. Just for a few hours, you know. So that you might become familiar. We are neighbors, after all.”

The Alpha was quiet, studying him. “I suppose a Beta must live in a quiet sort of house.”

“I do my best though my housekeeper has a tendency to find ways to make it louder than it has to be. You'll like him. He's a decent sort. Omega.” He took in a breath through his nose, deep and calming. “And I...I would very much like to get to know you, Alpha. Beyond this. Where I'm comfortable. Where I might...say your name.”

There was a secret smile at the edge of his lips. “Very well. I will meet you out front with the horses in twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Alpha.”

True to his word, he was waiting with the horses in his riding boots when Mort came to him after changing, his body still inwardly cringing at the idea of riding today but the house was too far to walk and if this kind Alpha might place his mouth upon Mort's body at least once more, it would be well worth it to put himself through this mild abuse.

They spoke very little on the ride and if Mort was honest, it was because he was mostly hideously uncomfortable, choosing not to speak for the aching was too much to bear while trying to come up with witty banter. When they had finally dismounted and climbed the steps of his smaller manor house, he turned about before entering to find Tris directly behind him.

“I should tell you,” he began carefully, “it isn't much like your home. It is much less...opulent.”

“Are you apologizing?”

“N-No, I...well, I suppose I might be. It isn't that I haven't the necessary funds, it is only that I have much more simple taste and...”

“My home is decorated by my mother,” Tris replied, the tone of his voice implying that it very much was not what he would choose should he have had a say.

“Ah. Well then...perhaps you might find it to your liking.” He turned then and opened the door, ready to fall into his own bed and think of nothing else aside from perhaps the warmth of this willing Alpha beside him. Unfortunately, there was immediately a crash from the drawing room that caused both he and Tris to look at each other in alarm. Sidetracked effectively, they came to the doorway together to find that one of the heavy side tables near to a settee had toppled over, sending a tea tray clattering to the floor and bits of broken porcelain scattering to the four winds.

“Oh dear,” came the very familiar grumble of Hudsward who swept over toward the Omega servant standing on the settee who'd very obviously been the one to have the accident. She had been in the process of removing the old curtains and the heavy brocade had likely been the cause of the mishap. On his way over, Hudsward spotted the two interlopers and gave a slight gasp. “Oh! Mr. Stone. You're home early.”

Short, as most Omegas, and sporting a little bit of gray in his hair, Hudsward was the epitome of grace and took a moment to adjust his stylish little round glasses on his nose before he stood up straight and then gave a noble bow. “Gentlemen. Apologies for the mess.” He addressed the girl. “Don't stop what you're doing, I'll have Sarah clean this up. What you're doing is far more important.” He then turned to Mort again, a smile coming across his face. “Some lemon cakes perhaps? I'll have the second floor parlor opened for you, sir.”

“Changing the curtains, Hudsward?” Mort asked, amused.

“Oh just a little update, nothing drastic. You'd seemed disinterested in the color of this room anyhow.”

“Of course,” he supplied. He'd known for a long time that he wouldn't be able to stop Hudsward in any of his projects and he didn't bother here. It didn't really matter in the least what the damned curtains looked like. “Lemon cakes you say? Send them...erm...well, send them to my room, would you?”

Hudsward gave pause for a moment, his shrewd expression more prominent as he passed his gaze between the Beta and the Alpha for a moment. “Of course, sir.”

“Oh, and Hudsward?”

“Yes?”

“Bring them up yourself, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken me far too long to get around to updating. I promise I will do better with it in the upcoming months. :3 This is the next project to work on and get finished so if you're still with me on this, no worries, it is my baby and I will be working on it.


	7. Chapter 7

Stone's house was perhaps a third of the size of Tris's ridiculous country manor but boasted plenty of rooms. Honestly, far too many for a man living as a bachelor, in Tris's opinion. He didn't even have any of his family staying with him and no guests to speak of. This, of course, boded well for their purposes but it made the Alpha a little sad to know that his lover was living such a sheltered lifestyle. He examined the Beta's room, finding it charming in the best of ways, seeing Mort's personality shining in everything from the slightly worn carpet to the dark wood of his bureau and even in the contents of his rather large closet.

Tris was smiling as he fingered through Mort's collection of waistcoats. “You're a gentleman of less refined tastes than some of my friends. Very charming.”

“Is that sarcasm?” The Beta asked, raising one sardonic brow as he took off his cravat, sliding it from around his neck before he rubbed at the back of it, closing his eyes as he massaged himself.

“Sore?”

“Only a little.”

Tris sat himself down on one of the chairs that was near to the fireplace, placing one of his ankles over his knee. “Your housekeeper will be bringing us tea. Do you really want to take off your cravat so soon?”

“Hudsward isn't a fool. He's known me ever since my brother-in-law married and left.”

“Oh yes, the enigmatic Mr. Stone. I remember my mother was quite scandalized by his reemergence into society and his whirlwind marriage. Seems to have turned out very well. I've known Rainton for a long time. He's a good egg.” He sighed through his nose. “Always had a taste for men...but...never of my sort.”

“I don't suppose it's very easy to find men like you.”

Tris gave the best of his incredulous expressions. “Oh, believe me, Mort...you can find anything you wish for in London...and many things you had no wish to ever find.”

Mort came to him, sitting in the other chair slowly, sinking down into it as though his back ached. “Tell me about your discovery. You're witnessing mine and it's certainly not what I imagined would happen to me at such an advanced age. No matter that I was drunk last night—I should have you know that I'm very much interested in this proclivity and what it means for me.”

Tris let out a puff of air through his nose. “There is not much to tell of my own discovery. When I was a boy, I thought men were quite handsome indeed and when I grew older, I thought the same.”

“What of this man you spoke of last night? The one who...”

A knot of something difficult was suddenly caught in his chest and he found he could not open his mouth. It was, after all, difficult to speak of the man who had torn his heart out and thrown it upon the ground before stomping it into the dirt. It was difficult to speak of the man who had made it so that Tris knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was impossible to love. Plenty possible to find attractive despite his relatively plain-looking face, but utterly impossible to love as a man might come to love another man. Tris wasn't worth love, and that was what it honestly came down to.

“I see I've upset you.” Mort frowned down at his hands in his lap. “Fifteen is such an impressionable age. I...I find myself feeling rather fatherly, I admit. Despite that you are much older now.”

“There have been fifteen year old Alphas before...”

“It is uncommon.”

“Theodore Neverell is fifteen and an Omega. The Alpha, Lady Quinn Idlewind is a mere thirteen...”

Mort sniffed. “I'll hand it to you for Neverell but as for Lady Quinn, it is well-known that ladies have a tendency toward presenting earlier. Nonetheless, neither of those two are, to my knowledge, developing relationships with older men without the knowledge of their guardians.”

The Alpha sighed, feeling a mite petulant. “I'm starting to sense that you're judging me.”

“I'm doing nothing of the sort. I'm wondering what sort of man sees a fifteen year old as an agent in charge of his own future and develops a serious and sexual relationship with him. This isn't some bawdy erotic novel that can lilly-lolly all about diddling nine year olds—this is something that actually happened to you.” He dusted off his thighs and then laced his fingers over them. “Two boys together is one thing—boyish explorations and all that. But a man took advantage of you, Tris...was that not part of your discovery?”

It was. But not, perhaps, how Mort might have thought. It was the discovery of betrayal, of heartbreak, and of a sort of emotional sickness that had never left him from that time onward. It was why he was the way he was. Not why he had his overarching tastes—no. Not that. More so why he was such a damned disaster.

The Alpha put his elbow on the arm of the chair and didn't speak, rescued then by the tea arriving and Hudsward gracefully rolling the tray inside the room. 

The housekeeper consciously closed the door behind him and stood at attention, clasping his hands behind his back while Mort looked up at him. “Sirs, your tea. Was there anything else you wished of me, Mr. Stone? Perhaps these windows open for the warm afternoon breeze?”

“That would be lovely, Hudsward. This is Lord Griggsby, our neighbor.”

The servant gave a low bow. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, my Lord. Should you need anything at any time, please only ask.” He made deliberate eye-contact with Tris then, a sincerity behind his eyes that Tris found comforting. He'd never experienced such loyalty from his own staff, though he supposed that the old butler likely wouldn't bat an eye at what he got himself up to considering that he'd been around since his uncle's time. Hudsward then turned and quickly opened the windows, allowing in fresh warm country air that rustled the curtains and the sheer fabric around the bed that hid it from the rest of the room. “Should I take it that I will need to perform a sort of vetting process with the staff, Mr. Stone?”

“Are any of them currently a tad indiscreet?”

Hudsward gave a slight pause. “Only a couple that I can think of at the moment but one never is sure where loyalties are until they are suitably tested.”

“That sounds like an ordeal.”

“Nothing to worry yourself over, sir,” he supplied easily, fluffing the pillows of the bed. “I worked in London under an Omega in similar circumstances, you see.”

“Mrs. Bridgers? Really?” Mort asked, twisting to gawk at the man.

“Now don't you be running her name about in your mouth with such a tone,” he scolded. “You're in far worse straits should someone do the same to you and it get out.”

Mort settled, peering at Tris and decidedly chastised.

“I'll see to it that the house is mum about anything you choose to do in it and all the work you two have to do is simply don't get about each other too much when you're outside it. It's wonderful to meet you, my Lord, I've got duties to attend to. Ring the bell if you need me.”

Mort seemed to think of something. “Oh, Hudsward—”

“It's on the tea tray,” the Omega quipped, pulling the door shut.

The Beta frowned, his brows pulling together as he stood with his puzzlement and inspected the tray, lifting up a small bottle of lubricant. “I don't know how he does that. It really is like he reads my mind.”

Tris smiled, leaning his cheek in his hand. “He'd make a lovely mate for you.”

“He's my housekeeper.”

“It's been done before.”

The Beta poured the tea into the two cups and placed a lemon cake on each saucer before he came back and handed Tris his. “Wait until you try these cakes. My cook really needs only one strength though she has many.”

“I'd like to smear this glaze all over your body and then lick it off.”

Mort nearly choked on his cake.

Laughing, the Alpha nearly inhaled this stupid lemon cake. It was good, no doubt about that, but he couldn't give a damn about it. He wanted what he came here for. He wanted more than just lemon cake and tea. He wanted to be Mort's slave. He wanted the man to step on him. He wanted to find himself at the mercy of this Beta and he half wanted his staff to know all about it. He wanted to feel humiliated by him—he wanted to feel as though Mort was his only saving grace in a world that found him horrible and hideous.

_I find myself feeling rather fatherly..._

Just the thought of those words from Mort Stone's lips was enough to cause him great discomfort as blood rushed to his groin. He had to blow on his tea for it was still too hot to consume and he cursed it for he would have simply guzzled it if he could if only to throw Mort's tea cup to the side and drop to his knees before him.

_Actually..._

“What do you prefer more, Beta? Your lemon cake or my lips on your shaft?”

Mort swallowed this time but only just barely. “Well...I mean...you tasted that lemon cake, didn't you?”

Tris startled a bit, finding the challenge to have been laid for him suddenly though through so many words...the subversiveness of Betas would never cease to shock him. He set his tea down then, coming to his knees before Mort where he sat and placing his large hands on the man's thighs, close enough then to smell his lusty trepidation.

“Mort...tell me to take you. Tell me what you want from me. You've brought me to your room here and you know what I need from you.”

“After I give you what you need,” Mort replied, entirely too calm and cordial for the tenseness of the moment, “then you should tell me about yourself. Your journey to where we are today. How you found everything. How you found _everyone_. How you knew I would be receptive...”

He growled low. “Fine. I will tell you anything. Please. Give me orders. Use me. Tie me down, use your teeth, mount me like you would a writhing Omega. Abuse me.”

“Absolutely not on that last count,” he replied, sipping his tea gingerly.

Tris, slightly miffed, sat back on his heels. “Well...do _something_.”

“Why don't _you _do something? How about you get up and you take off your clothes for me.”

More than happy to obey, he stood and began to quickly undress before he was stopped by an interjection from his older lover.

“Slower. I want to enjoy myself.”

If Tris was being honest, it already appeared as though the man was enjoying himself. He was leaned backwards with his tea and an interested gleam in his eyes, his gaze following Tris's hands as he began to—slowly—remove his cravat, sliding it from his throat with a seductive flourish before he draped the cloth over the arm of his chair. It was with a painful patience that he unbuttoned his waistcoat and then his shirt beneath, running a hand over the bare flesh of his belly and chest before he pulled both of them off, letting them slide from his arms down onto the seat. He watched Mort take another sip of his tea, his eyes fastened upon Tris's body as though his entire sanity was hinged upon seeing more flesh revealed.

Tris whispered at him, halfway to pulling his trousers down before he leisurely sauntered behind the tall chair so that his lower body was completely out of sight. “Am I doing alright for you, lover?”

Mort cleared his throat, schooling his expression back to a pleasant resolve. “Wonderfully.”

He felt a smug smile tug at his lips and he walked out again, his cheeks pink when he very gradually pulled down his trousers until the root of him was visible, watching the tip of Mort's pink tongue emerge from his lips while his eyes were fixed on Tris's groin. “Are you watching me, Beta?”

“Yes...”

“Do you want me, Beta?”

“Yes.”

It was only then that he pulled down his trousers fully and allowed his manhood to bob up and down as though nodding back in affirmation. He stepped out of his clothes then, having previously divested himself of his boots and socks and he noted that Mort had set down his tea and had leaned forward to pick up his discarded cravat.

“Tie this around your eyes.”

“What?” Tris asked, humored.

“Blind yourself. I want you to feel me more than I want you to see me. I want you to be utterly helpless to me. You like that, do you not? To feel just the slightest bit out of control? It is an Alpha's instinct to always have his control and yet you crave to be without it.” He was smiling, offering out the cravat as though he offered a priceless diamond. “I only wish to give you what you want, Alpha.”

Without further question, Tris took it and did as the Beta requested, rendering himself entirely without sight though he could make out that it was somewhat bright in the room. The effect was interesting to say the least as it seemed now that he was overly sensitive to the brush of the wind over his naked flesh and the warmth that came to him from the outside. He thought he could sense where a square patch of sunlight had crept over the carpet and to the tops of his feet and he could smell very well the musty hint of a Beta's lust. His Beta's lust.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his thick girth, slicked with lubricant and very gently moving back and forth, tugging at the pliant flesh and pulling it back from the head. Every brush upon the underside over the revealed glans was sending brilliant sparks of pleasure straight into his spine and he opened his mouth in a groan.

“_What a good boy,_” Mort murmured and Tris thought he might have grown even harder in the man's hand.

“What if I was a bad boy?” he breathed. “Would you hit me?”

“I would discipline you. But I would never hit you. Don't you like being my good boy?” Mort was close to him now, his free hand very gently skimming over his waist and his hip as he stroked him sensually. “I very much like good boys like you. Good boys get rewards.”

He was practically panting. “W-What kind of rewards?”

Instead of answering with his voice, the Beta leaned toward him, his breath feathering over Tris's chest before he very carefully pulled one of the Alpha's nipples into his mouth. At Tris's little cry of surprise and pleasure, he swirled his tongue about it and then sucked at it again, making certain to very, very gently nibble at it with his teeth and lips. He adjusted his grip over Tris's manhood and began to pump back and forth with a more demanding pace and a stronger touch.

“_Mmm..._” Tris tried, trying to keep himself from moaning overly loud. The sweet Omega housekeeper had promised discretion from the entirety of the staff as a future commitment—it was not guaranteed now. He wanted to encourage the Beta with his hands but wasn't certain if that was what good boys did—he'd never been called a good boy. He'd mostly been decried as very naughty, though he still, after all these years, wasn't sure if it was something he did that was naughty or something he _was _that was naughty. He suspected that it must have been the latter but by the way Mort said it, it warred with his previous experience. Was he bad? Or was he good? Was it based on what he did or what he was? Was he allowed to touch Mort now? Was he allowed to do anything at all aside from provide a nice, warm hole to fuck? “What can I do, Mort? What do you want from me?”

“You can find your way to my bed if you want...but you're not allowed to see what you're doing. When you get there, you can lay on your back and hold your legs open for me so that I might see everything you have to offer me.”

He went immediately and felt his way to the bed, spreading his hands over the counterpane before he climbed upon it and laid back with his head upon the pillows. It was a very comfortable bed and he was more than happy to hold his legs open, his fingers gripping behind his knees.

“Are you comfortable like that? On your back?”

“I am practiced in the art,” Tris replied easily, grinning. Mort couldn't know the types of things Tris had been through in his life. Most Alphas would instinctively buck the thought of becoming submissive but for him, it was like it was second nature. The first few times he had been flipped to his back when he was naught but fifteen, he had fought until he could be subdued but there was a wish there: a wish that his Alpha—for Lord Saines really had been his Alpha, hadn't he?—would fully take him. Now, it was as easy as breath to be on his back and at a man's mercy. “You say I am a good boy but it has taken much training for me...”

“Ah, I am spoiled then to be the master who has bought an already-broken horse.”

“Take care you do not get overly complacent, Beta,” he teased. “I could still buck you.”

There was a rustling as Mort shed his clothes to the floor and when he spoke again, Tris could feel the warmth of his body and the puff of his breath on the inside of his thigh. “You won't buck me.”

“You seem very sure.”

“I am. You see...it takes a measure of discontent for such an event.”

“Or a moment of panic and unthinking action,” Tris replied.

“Then I will seek not to spook you. I will speak softly.” His lips came to Tris's length, his tongue tickling and teasing over his sensitive velvet flesh. “I will touch gently.” He gave a wet, open-mouth kiss to the head of him. “I will keep you very well. And I will be a jealous lover...”

Tris felt gooseflesh rise over his skin and let his mouth fall open at the sensation of Mort laving him with his tongue. There had been plenty of men who had teased him in this fashion but he felt, here, for the first time, that it was not in any manner with which he was familiar. Mort touched him with an altruism that was uncommon at Blakely's. At clubs, men sucked cocks because it was arousing for them or because they knew that if they did so, it was likely that they would get that same gesture in return. Some of it was lazy but good enough and some of it was overly zealous, as though their earnest approach might make the act shorter in duration. Mort had, most likely, never placed another man's shaft near his mouth and was, in effect, experimenting. Not only that, he seemed very much as though he were enjoying himself if his scent was anything to go by.

“_Mmm..._” the Beta hummed, taking the whole of Tris's head into his mouth and sucking gently, his tongue and lips guarding his teeth in a cautious hold that spread his saliva in dribbles down the base of him.

“_Ohhh...Beta..._” He reached between his legs which were still comically up in the air and found his lover's hair, stroking him for encouragement. There wasn't much the man could do for him, his manhood being the size that it was. It wasn't as though Mort would have been able to take much more than just the head of him. Still, he did his very best and when he was, at length, tired of the act, he lifted off and replaced his mouth again with his hand. Tris sighed. “I think I could get used to being treated so kindly...”

“Have you not been?”

Tris didn't want to think about all the ways in which he had not been treated well. It was his own fault, anyhow, for having been..._naughty_. “I have been treated as I deserved.”

Mort sniffed. “I don't know if I believe that one for a second. You speak as though you were very ornery.”

He quirked his mouth to the side. “Ornery” wouldn't be the word he would use and likely not even close to whatever it was he could qualify it as. He recognized that he had complex emotions toward the subject and didn't wish to discuss it further.

Mort squeezed the tip of him, his fingers forming a perfect circle around the most sensitive section of his cock. “Do you think you were misbehaved, Tris?”

“Errrgh,” he tried, gritting his teeth. “I think... I... I think I was...” _Dirty_. _Whorish_. _Bad_. “Difficult.”

Mort's fingers came to his backside, pushing inside him to test him.

“You don't have to...just...just slick yourself up.”

Nervousness spiced Mort's scent. “A-Alright. I'm...well you know I'm somewhat new to this...”

“It's alright,” Tris replied quickly, eager to reassure. “It's perfectly alright. Just...take me, Beta. I can't wait any longer. Please. And...and last night...I know you were drunk but you put your hand on my throat and...and I-I liked that.”

The anxiety washed away then and the Beta gently slid inside of Tris's body without preamble, driving in slowly until he was buried to the hilt. He placed one hand down on Tris's chest and put his weight on it, waiting until the Alpha groaned before he eased up a little, beginning a steady thrusting with his hips that, upon each slap, made Tris's body come alive with pleasure. “Did you like everything I did to you last night?”

“Very much, sir.”

Mort gripped his length in his hand, squeezing about the base until Tris groaned again, still rocking into him and piling sensation upon sensation until he was squirming and softly tensing with every thrust. He wanted more. When he had moved over-much, it seemed the Beta began losing patience with him and his hand came to Tris's throat again, sending tingles of anticipation down his spine. The squeeze was inexorable and alongside the hard fuck Mort began to give him, he could feel his body begin to build its orgasmic tension. He tried to cry out, the only sound he could emit a low whine which was limited by the small sips of air he could take past the pressure on his windpipe. His hands came to Mort's wrist but only held him, begging him not to remove himself. Begging him to keep slapping against him and keep violating his body. His legs wrapped around the Beta's waist, urging him on and cradling his form as he continued to savagely take Tris as a man could take an Alpha beneath him.

“Come for me, Tris. Come for me. Be my good boy. Be my good Alpha boy. I want you to come all over yourself so I can smear it all over you—paint you with it.”

He sipped at the air, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he reached the edge and felt himself wobbling upon the precipice. He turned his head to the side and broke Mort's grip on his throat, pulling in a heavy breath and letting it out in a hard groan as his hands reached upward, pawing sightlessly until he was gripping Mort's upper arm and shoulder. He was coming then with great vigor, his abdomen tightening in waves of spasm as his breath hitched and brilliant stars filled his vision despite his blindfold. He had completely let go of himself and was clutching Mort desperately, huffing as the Beta fucked him through it and then stilled at the very end, buried as deeply as he could be.

“_Uhhnnn…_” Tris groaned. He knew he’d done just as his Beta asked him to and he was proud of himself for that, at least. He had done good. He hadn’t been a naughty boy. He’d been very good, indeed. “Mmm…am…am I…_am I a good boy?_”

“Oh _yes_,” Mort replied, clearly winded. “Oh yes, you’re a good boy. God, I don’t know if I’ve ever come so much before. You are…_god_, you are a treasure.” When the man reached down and removed the blindfold, he had such a warm expression that Tris wasn’t certain he could keep his eyes upon him. He was so _perfect_ in every manner and it was disconcerting at the very least that a _Beta_ should have made him feel like this and so _quickly_ to boot!

Tris reached upwards and pulled Mort down, holding him gently if only to spare himself the anguish of staring straight at him when the flood of tears pricked at his eyes. He couldn’t see through the blur and he fought them, feeling them hot and stinging before they tumbled from the corners toward his ears.

“Have I...upset you?” Mort asked softly against his chest.

“No. No...never. You could never upset me. I think that’s why I’m so overcome right now.” He held Mort tighter. “You just speak to me so kindly and I...I am not used to it when I am like this.”

“Like this?”

“Naked. On my back. With…” He had to grit his teeth, his eyes closed while he fought against more tears. It was one thing to be an Alpha trained to hold up to abuse--it was another to be one trained to hold up against kindness.

“Tris…” he murmured, his arms moving to hold the Alpha tight. “I’ll always be kind to you.”

“I know,” he sobbed. “_I know…_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until tomorrow to update but ehn. Thursday night is just as good. :3 I hope everyone is having a good day. Make sure to leave me a comment if you're feelin' it!


	8. Chapter 8

Tris knew that what he was feeling was very dangerous indeed. The younger Tris--the bolder Tris, was a boy who had given his whole body and whole heart to the power of a man who claimed to be his mate. He had felt a tingling elation deep inside himself every time he saw Lord Saines at a ball or a dinner gathering. He had wished for every spare moment to be filled with gentle touches that would morph into harsher ones. He had hoped to be taught everything he could learn from a man who whispered words like _love_ and _cherish_ into his ear. He knew what he had felt then and he knew what he was feeling now. A small gripping sensation in his chest and sometimes, when he was feeling randy, his stomach. Every time he saw Mort Stone for the next week, he was compelled to be next to him, to be near him, to be _under_ him.

They hid in closets like fresh boys, fumbling together until they could awkwardly rub against one another. They stole away to Mort’s estate in the afternoons and fucked like newlyweds in parlors, in bedrooms, and sometimes outside on the grounds, hidden by the shade of the apple trees.

He was feeling rather decent about how his summer was going to fair. His muscles ached in a pleasant sort of way and he lay upon the grass, staring up at the clouds moving by while most of the guests packed up their things and got in their coaches and left for their own country estates. His cousins couldn’t care less that he had not played a grand role in their gathering at his own estate though his mother was a bit peevish that he had not suitably mingled with the present Omegas.

Georgette came to him, sitting daintily down in the grass, her skirts spread out around her. Her light voice came to him as though he dreamt it. “Are you satisfied, Tris?”

He turned his head to look at her, his eyes hazy though focused. “What can you mean?”

“You told me mere days ago that love was a fool’s game.”

“And you told me that I was a fool. Are you here to rub it in and tell me that you told me so?” He wouldn’t mind that. Not at all. “I know that you’ve manufactured this somehow. That this was somehow your doing. You saw me looking at him.”

“I’ve done some fairly amazing things in my life,” she conceded smugly.

“He’s beautiful.”

“He’s kind,” she told him.

Tris sighed, closing his eyes and thinking of all the ways Mort had touched him. Absolutely nothing about Mort Stone was painful. He was strong for a Beta, soft to the touch, and had a commanding presence in the bedroom that suited Tris just perfectly. They were so sexually compatible that it was hardly a surprise that he should have developed this tight feeling in his chest whenever he thought about him.

_This really is dangerous…_

“Georgette…”

“Yes, darling.”

“I...I haven’t felt like this in a very long time.” He was frowning, though he kept his eyes closed. “You don’t think that...that he’s like…”

“No,” she told him immediately, her confidence astounding. “He’s a very decent fellow. I asked about him, you know. He’s very much a solitary creature and odd for a Beta but everyone likes him. I don’t know if there’s a soul on Earth who dislikes Mr. Stone. He’s a tepid sort and if he finds you attractive and decent and wants to be with you, I’d tell you that you’re quite safe.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Molly houses do not cater to Betas and he’s got no reason to be the sort who would betray you. You told me yourself just the other evening that you’re his first man. If anything, he’s probably nervous about you being the one who will tire of him.”

He reached sightlessly out and when she gave him her hand, he squeezed it softly, feeling the sun come out from behind a cloud and warm his face. “You are more than I deserve, Georgette. Must you go?”

“I’ve three children who have not seen me for a week, Tristan. I miss them dearly. As much as I love you, I simply must see them.”

“Mm...I hope they’re well. I wish they could have come...they are such little beasties.”

He could hear her smile in her voice. “Little beasties who love their uncle Tristan. Anyhow, darling, I must go. Wendell will have gotten everything together and he is likely taking glances at his pocket watch and glaring at my absence.” She squeezed his hand again and then leaned over him, cutting out the light of the sun to press a delicate kiss upon his brow. “You take care of yourself and you take care of your Mr. Stone. He’s a creature who might need some of your tenderness.”

He cracked an eye. “You know...I think I’m scared of him.”

“No you’re not. You’re scared of having feelings for him. But it’s too late, Tris, you already do. Might as well come to terms. Steel yourself, you might actually live happily ever after.”

He smiled and scoffed a bit, letting her go from him and laying in the sun for a few more minutes.

There really was something awfully special about that Beta, he thought to himself, and he really was going to let himself fall entirely for him. It was evident along that entire summer that every moment he spent with the man was another moment he was creeping toward complete and utter surrender.

There were no guests to hide from and nothing else to do on the estate and so to relieve his boredom he often went riding, stopping by Stone’s home to pester Hudsward and listen to Mort ramble on about the history of his swords. Sometimes, Tris would bring him a book of erotic stories and they would read together, Mort’s face a brilliant shade of pink until neither of them could handle the tension anymore and they fell to the plush carpet and placed each other in their mouths. There was an element here that was more than he had ever known with Lord Saines. It was a comfort like no other and surely it could end poorly should he let it get the best of him.

He felt as though he could _relax_ around Mort--that he could simply let everything fall the way it naturally fell. He did not have to sit up straight and look to impress the man. He did not have to think about all the ways he might disappoint. He did not have to constantly seek approval--for there was nothing more he could do. He was always Mort’s _good boy_ no matter what he did. He strove for perfection in the bedroom but everywhere else, he felt as though he and Mort were so naturally suited that it was unheard of to consider otherwise.

By the time autumn rolled around and the leaves began to shift their color, Tris was deeply and entirely devoted. They had spent so much time together that he could not imagine ever having days in which he did not see his Mortimer. The Beta had become the sun around which all other things must revolve.

The first snow was falling when he finally confessed, couched in the arms of his lover around mid-afternoon. Mort’s fingers were trailing lightly against the back of his head through his hair and he was warm and comfortable and his Beta’s scent was all around him. His face was tucked against the man’s chest and he rubbed his cheek lovingly against the mat of hair there.

“Mort?” he asked softly, taking in the man’s decadent warmth.

“Mmm?”

He paused for a moment, uncertain and feeling a familiar reluctance welling in his throat. Still, he pressed on. “I love you.” It was all he could say. He did not wish to complicate it with useless words and so he didn’t, leaving it just at that--with all the weight of his emotions around it.

Mort’s hand stopped, his fingers resting lightly upon the back of Tris’ head. A soft and very Beta-like chuckle sounded from his chest underneath the Alpha. “I love you as well, Tris.”

The Alpha shifted, balancing on his elbows to peer into Mort’s face. “Was it obvious of me? That you are my beloved? I cannot help but feel that this might have been so soon...that these short months might not have been long enough for me to tell you…”

Mort was smiling, warm and genuine. “I think it was fairly obvious...but it is nice to have it be real from your lips. To be spoken and made into something I can touch and cherish.”

“I want to tell you the rest. I have told you of the molly house. I’ve told you of my experience...but I have not told you how I came to be so fearful of love.”

Mort brought a hand to his cheek and touched him so reverently he thought he could sob again.

“You know that I was fifteen when I presented. I was young and foolish and I wanted very much for a man to desire me.” He settled himself back down over Mort’s chest and took comfort in the touch of the Beta’s hand once again in his hair. It would be easier to tell this tale without looking at his lover’s reactions to it. “I was at a party and there was a bit of a misunderstanding with the guests which made my dinner companion a Lord Saines.” He swallowed thickly. “He was marvelous to me at the time. His hair was gray about this temples and he had this air of confidence I could barely comprehend. He must have known something about me...about the way I looked at him.

“He spoke to me softly. He made little suggestions that planted themselves deep in my mind. He told me that if I was very good, he would teach me things. I wanted to please him. I wanted his approval and above all else, I wanted his affections. Something about his smile--the way he looked at me--he became all I wanted. At first, it was the Alpha in me who wanted to possess him...but as time drew on, I wanted to _become_ the possession.”

Mort held him tenderly, remaining silent to encourage him to continue.

“He brought me to the club. Before that, it was merely brushes against my knee. My thigh sometimes. Small suggestions of intimacy. But there--he was truly an animal. He took me to a room and he stripped me and he critiqued my body and told me that he would make me better--make me worthy. My instinct fought him at times but he trained me.”

Mort’s tone was soft but there was something hard in his voice, just beyond the surface. “He _broke _you.”

“As a man breaks a stallion,” Tris agreed. “I...I was taught compliance. I was taught submission. In everything, he made certain to remind me of my place. I am...drawn to that, even now. You cannot ask me to become something more than what he made me...I do not wish to be.”

“But he was not kind to you.”

“No...and I loved him.”

Mort sighed deeply. “It was a sort of love...not the sort I would wish for. Only a cruel man could be so cold to a boy so young.”

“I didn’t not find him cruel. I could not think it. If ever someone thought ill of him, I sought to protect him. I was utterly devoted. There was not a shred of doubt in my heart that he loved me and that I loved him. I begged for him to mark me. To make me his. He promised that he would...for me to be patient.”

“Tris…” Mort whispered, his horror evident in his scent.

“As you’ve seen every inch of my flesh, you know he did not. In fact, the mere suggestion of it seemed to make his disposition even colder toward me. I was nineteen. I was everything he had ever trained me to be--the perfect lover save one element of my being. One that I could not control.”

“Oh my god,” Mort breathed. “You were…too old…”

“He drifted from me. I refused to see the truth until I burst into his room at Blakely’s to find him in the midst of training another Alpha boy--this one sixteen and very much upset to have me barging in upon _his Alpha_.” He rubbed his face against Mort’s chest again. “I could have killed Lord Saines had I not loved him so much still.”

“You still go to Blakely’s, do you not?”

“Yes...as a sort of vengeance. It was very strange for him to see me there and I was young and very angry and so I would make it a point to be present there...and to find as many lovers as I could. He had always called me a naughty boy and I think I rather fell into the role after he spurned me. I can’t tell you how many lovers I’ve taken...probably more than I even know.”

“I think I will have to come to London this season. Just to keep you so occupied with me that you will not think to go. I do not know if I could possess such jealousy and live to see another morning. If I knew that you were to be held by another man...oh it does seem so silly of me, but I swear to you, Tris, I very much think you mine.”

He lay in Mort’s arms for a long time, the silence between them stretching out comfortably until he could parse through all of his thoughts and distill them into one simple and yet wholly complex question. “Mort, would you...mark me?”

“Would you like me to?”

“I...I don’t suppose you might think me over-eager, do you? It is only that I feel as though I have gone on so long in a state of unknowing and now that I’ve met you, I feel as though I could never be more sure of something. Of _someone._ If my passions are too strong, you must tell me.”

“No,” Mort told him, petting his head again. “Your passions mirror my own. I can only ask you where you would like your mark placed--for I do intend to give you one now that you have inquired.”

A warmth filled him and he sighed, shifting until he could press his nose against the underside of Mort’s jaw, filling his lungs with that lovely mild Beta musk that had his cock thickening. “Wherever you think you’d like to place it, mate. Though somewhere easily hidden, I would venture…”

“Mm,” Mort replied, shifting with him until he was on top of him, Tris’ face down in the pillows and Mort’s manhood nestled against his already-dripping backside. The Beta’s own come eased his entry and they shared a tender moment together again that afternoon, their lovemaking particularly soulful with the promise of a bondmark between them. Tris was trembling from his climax when he felt his mate pull away from him and bare him to the cool air of the room, gooseflesh rising over his body when he felt the scrutiny. It was only just after the last shudder of orgasm had left him when he felt the exquisite pain of his mate’s teeth sinking into the back of his thigh toward the place his sack lay between them--a very sensitive spot and now ringing with agony.

“_Aaahn!_” he cried, his fists curling hard into the bedsheets, pulling at them until they loosened from their hold upon the mattress. Should he have held the headboard, he was certain he would have cracked it soundly from side to side. He writhed against the pain and yet exalted in its coming on the heels of climax and from a man he truly thought could love him--completely. Honestly. A man who genuinely thought him a very _good boy._

His contentment was so incandescent that he could not think beyond what had just happened to him. He could not envision past the finality of having bonded with Mort Stone. His confidante, his love, and his mate. No marriage could hold a candle to what he had just done and the elation floated with him even when he left. He could hardly bring himself to do so. When he was at the threshold, he leaned against the doorframe and thought he must look very much a lunatic for his gaze could not leave Mort’s face--his pinkened cheeks and outer Beta bashfulness that was a mere guise for the world when a lion paced within. He was aware of Hudsward nearby to him after the man had given him his coat but paid no heed to his presence when he mouthed to Mort in the darkling light of early evening.

_I love you._

Mort’s shy smile was betrayed by the slyness in his eyes and he gave Tris a cheeky little wink in reply and it was that wink Tris took with him when he put on his coat and took his horse’s reins in his hand. He could not sit in the saddle for the pain of the bite and so he walked the whole of the way back to his estate, the stars gleaming overhead while he felt drunk with love. He paused every so often, the nipping night clear and bright with the silver moon full overhead. Tris felt as if there was some sort of magic around him. As though nothing in the world could be more right than this feeling that made him wish to shout as loud as he could.

A stupid smile was still on his face when he arrived at his home and he ignored everyone who thought to speak to him, heading directly to his bedroom where he quickly stripped and fell right into his bed. He was so overcome by everything and so warmed by his love that he could not even think to pull the covers over himself and so he woke the next morning naked as a newborn with a fire crackling in the hearth and a small note left on a platter by his bedside--left by a servant.

_Tristan,_

_I request an audience with you at the breakfast table this morning. Do not delay for it is a matter of grave importance and your presence is required. _

She had not signed it but it was in the spidery hand of his mother and he scoffed, placing an arm over his eyes. The feeling of elation was still shining inside him and indeed would not cease until he was standing at the sideboard, plucking eggs from it for his meal.

“Tristan,” she began, her fork and knife clattering rudely onto her plate when she had noted his sudden presence. “Sit down.”

“I think I wish to eat while you harp at me, Mother,” he replied easily, casting a smile over to her pinched face.

She was looking particularly flushed this morning, her unease causing her to appear a little more than bedraggled despite her maid having done her best to put her to rights. She looked as though her nerves had been tested severely, her eyes wide and her brows tensed tight together. “You have some nerve coming in here to speak to me thusly,” she hissed at him. “I cannot believe that I have been cursed with such a flippant and horrible creature for a son.”

This was a fair bit more vitriol from her than he was used to and so he slowed his gathering of bacon and turned fully toward her, the shine inside his chest dying down to a mere flicker as apprehension filled him. She must have noted his expression of unease for she continued, color high on her cheeks.

“You disturbed _deviant_. Your reluctance to be married should have been my first hint toward your predilections but it is known that there are plenty of good men who cannot bring themselves to marry and so I could never have guessed--I could never have thought my _own son_ to have been so possessed by devilry!” She stood, her chair clattering behind her while she raised her hand to point at him, spittle flying from her lips. “_You will bring shame upon our family’s name! You bring shame upon this title!_”

“Mother…”

“You and that wretched _Beta_. I would never have even thought--in a thousand years I could never have even considered that such a calm and quiet man could transform my son into a vile _sodomite_.”

His panic was increasing by every word she spoke and he could hear the thunder of his heartbeat in his ears. “You...you think Stone…”

“I was _told_ by the servant who came to your room this morning that you had gone to bed without your clothes and that you had quite prominent a _bondmark_ upon your leg. That it was a Beta’s teeth--I cannot even think of it without the urge to retch.” Her eyes were swimming and she placed her fingers over her lips for moment to gather herself. “_How could you?!_” she shrieked, her shrill voice keeping him rooted to his spot, his plate held uselessly in his hand as all his hunger had fled and every good thing he had felt about the world slipping further into a yawning abyss.

“Mother…”

She shook her head, her body trembling in her rage as she further gathered herself. “You are getting married.”

“What?”

“There is a man who owns a vast portion of land he inherited from a noble uncle. His estate sources some of the finest wines in the country. He has a good bloodline and no title of his own...and a daughter. An Omega. You will marry her.”

He suddenly realized that he was shaking. “No.”

“You have no choice, Tristan.”

“I have plenty of choice,” he replied, his voice hard. “I am the master of this estate. I am the master of my own future. I am the Viscount here, I--”

“_You are a boy who will do as he’s told!_” she screamed, the sound of her voice eaten by the sturdy wooden beams above them and yet ringing in his head all the same. “I will not let you destroy this house. I will not let you destroy your title. I will not allow you to ruin our line with your wretchedness. If you do not marry this woman and do your duty to your heritage, then I will make absolutely certain that your lover faces every possible consequence for his depravity.”

“And how shall you do that without disrupting your own standing?” he snapped, “You would certainly have to reveal who you suspect to be his lover, would you not?”

“If you should wish for the walls of your kingdom to crumble, Tristan, then I surely will aid you in it.”

“It is your kingdom as well, Mother.”

“We all must make sacrifices--it is one I am willing to barter.” There was a shine of madness in her eyes and it was this moment that Tris was absolutely certain she was out of her mind. She would surely do it. She would destroy her own wellbeing if only to drag his depravity into London’s eye. She would send him to be jailed for what he’d done and she would subject his precious Mortimer to that very same fate--that of a man condemned by his own love.

His world opened up and swallowed him in darkness. He felt cold. He wasn’t certain if he had ever felt so cold in his life. Perhaps when he had crashed through the door to Lord Saines’ room at Blakely’s and discovered him rutting another boy into the plush bedding. Something inside him that had broken once before was shattering again. He could barely hear his own soft voice.

“_You can’t...do this to me…_”

“I will do what is good for my family...and if that means that you will marry Miss Wheatley, then so be it. Her father is desperate for a match as she has had some severe scandal in her past. I daresay, I shouldn’t think you’ll bother being picky about whether or not your bride is a virgin.”

He nearly collapsed against the sideboard, his plate falling from his numbed hand and crashing to the floor. His bondmark stung as the sweat of his stress seeped out of his pores and his aggravated scent filled the room.

“Carl, Paul?” his mother quipped, her fingers snapping. The two Alpha footmen stepped forward from the wall. “Escort Tristan to his room. Make certain he stays there until his things are packed up. We will put this boy to rights, won’t we? He is not allowed to send any letters.”

“No!” he nearly shouted, putting out a finger to the men who approached him. “I am Lord of this house. You will not touch me.”

“Do not be difficult, Tristan,” his mother scolded. “Go. Your Mr. Stone’s reputation depends upon your obedience.”

Rage and bile welled up within him, a mixture of hatred that soured his scent until it burned around him in a noxious gas. He was too angry to be coherent and so he left her then, the sides of his vision blackened and his blood still rushing in his ears and his mind until everything was a blur around him. When he reached his bedroom, he slammed the door behind him so hard that the thick wood cracked down the middle and the boom could be heard through the whole of the house. He was shaking, trembling with temper until he threw open the window and peered down to the courtyard below. He could not hope to form a rope from his sheets and if he was not able to write letters--no doubt all of his servants were loyal to his mother and would not post them--he was trapped until he was in London where he could perhaps find another way to contact Mort.

He felt a crawling and terrible hopelessness seeping into his body and sapping the strength from his legs.

_I’m going to be married. I’m going to be married and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Only if I can somehow find a new housekeeper in London without her finding out about it. If only I can manage to fire my entire staff while she’s asleep. If only she might somehow never wake up…_

He groaned, sitting himself beneath his window sill and covering his face with his hands. He couldn’t _seriously_ be considering _murdering_ his own mother. The boy inside him, still nineteen and still reeling from the shock of a broken heart, wept. He held his head in his arms and curled tight into a ball. Only just a few hours ago he had obtained the most happiness he had ever been destined to possess and now it was all he could do not to throw himself from his own window to the stone below. The little cheeky wink Mort had blessed him with haunted him in his memory and his bondmark set in so sensitive a place throbbed as if to remind him of all the damage love could do.

Love was a fool’s game and surely, as the footmen came to gather his things, he felt every bit of that truth now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _MY BABY._
> 
> **Up Next:** You get to meet the _real_ hero of this story.


	9. Chapter 9

A thin laurel of shining silver holly leaves glinted against the weak sun which filtered in through stained glass. The mirror reflected her eyes--pinkened and swollen from tears this morning and ringed by a slight shadow from her sleeplessness. The lady’s maid, Bess, was putting the finishing touches on the chignon which hid the back of the laurel, formed exquisitely with fragile braids held together by strategic pins. A vision. A beauty. A bride. Anyone should have been overjoyed at this luck.

Vanessa wanted to break the mirror. She wanted to smash it into a thousand pieces. She wanted to rip apart the entire vicarage brick by brick and crumble them into sand between her fingers. There was a fire within her and she felt impotent despite it. She was going to be forced to walk down the aisle of this cold place through the mostly-empty pews and stand next to a man she had never met. She was going to pledge her life to this _Lord_ and her father was going to finally wash his hands of her.

Would he be kind? Would he be cruel? What sort of desperation could he hold that he would take just any woman to be his wife? What kind of man agreed to marriage to an already-soiled Omega?

“I think it’s time, Miss Wheatley,” Bess murmured, her voice low and soft and placating. “You look a dream.”

“And the Lord?” she asked softly. “Does he look a dream? Or am I to be given to an old, snorting pig?”

Bess gave a slight pause. “He’s...he’s young, Miss. A very strong-looking sort.”

“Hm.” She stared into her own dark brown eyes in the looking glass, a very cold and dispassionate woman looking back at her. There was not a hint of what there used to be in those eyes. What she used to see when she looked into her mirror over her vanity. Warmth. Innocence. Hope.

“Come on, then,” Bess told her, slipping a hand beneath her elbow to move her to stand. It seemed these days that she did not do anything by herself. She didn’t go--she was taken. She did not walk, she was led. Every moment that went by served to remind her that every ounce of her autonomy had been destroyed by the elements of society around her. She could not have a choice in anything--least of all her mate.

She had chosen her mate despite all that pressed them apart and had been stupid enough to think that she could have a vicar marry them before a bite was placed. She could have hidden a bite--still had one and hidden it from the church so that she might have a chance, at least, for a marriage with the woman she truly loved. But no. Not now. Not when everything happened the way it did. Olive had been banished from their house with no references and Vanessa had been locked away as though a princess in a tower while her father hastily scrambled for a desperate Alpha willing to take her.

She touched a hand to her belly just over her womb. They didn’t know. Only Bess knew and Bess wouldn’t tell a soul. If there was any hope for her future at all--and the future of her pup--she had to do what she must. She had to bite her tongue and face her grim reality--and hope that her to-be husband was not a violent man. She could steel herself against anguish of the heart and the mind--but she could not steel herself against physical brutality.

Vanessa didn’t look at her father when he walked with her up the aisle and he didn’t look at her either. He barely touched her, likely unbelieving that she could still be his kin. She had disappointed him and she did not regret a single moment. How could she regret love?

The man who would become her husband--though never her mate, her heart cried--didn’t look at her either. When the vicar suggested they join hands, she lifted hers to find that he did not, his low growl to the vicar setting the tone for the rest of the ceremony. She softly folded her hands together in front of her and faced the alter instead. Resentment and grief was a thin cloud around him. He had tried to hide it, probably for her sake, but it seeped out from him anyway and the effect was caustic. Every so often she found her eyes leaking tears not from her own grief but from the effect of his scent. Even the vicar had to wipe at his eyes as he completed their marriage.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and from his build, she could tell that he was of a strong breed. His face was somewhere between plain and handsome--refined in a very individual sort of fashion with a decently strong jaw and a proud, almost decadent nose. His eyes were piercing in their intensity though she could see them clouded by the resentment obvious in his scent.

_He wants to be here even less than I do._

She sighed through her nose, letting his biting odor draw more tears over her cheeks. When the vicar nervously ended the whole thing, announcing to them that they were wed, he lowered his voice so that only the two of them could hear and mentioned that they might kiss.

“_Forget it,_” the Lord muttered between gritted teeth and he didn’t look at her when he turned about and stormed off down the aisle without her, his back straight and his shoulders tense. She watched him go with nothing inside her. Not even curiosity. She glanced at her father’s shocked gaze and she picked up her skirts, walking down the aisle while everyone stood in their puzzlement.

_This is going to be difficult,_ she thought wryly. Hopefully he at least had a sense of obligation. Else, Vanessa was doomed for sure. A steely reserve bolstered her. _I won’t let that happen to us. I won’t let anything happen to us. I am going to survive and I will dare the world to test me._

The whole of the evening was tense and curiously quiet. She ate though she did not feel like eating and she watched him from the corner of her eye. Someone must have convinced him that his attendance to his own reception was a mandatory affair and she had a thought that it was his mother. The dowager Lady Griggsby appeared relatively smug and comfortable as though she sat in her own house. She had inspected portraits that hung in their halls and had made small compliments to Vanessa’s beauty along with soft suggestions that she was slightly less than perfection. Reminding everyone very subversively that this was a patched up marriage that it was _all Vanessa’s doing._ She was curiously silent on whatever it was that had drawn her son into such a scandalous affair--preferring to distract from that little bit of the story by refocusing upon Vanessa’s sins instead.

Someone faceless mentioned the running of Griggsby’s household and when Vanessa lifted her head to speak, she heard the dowager’s voice instead of her own.

“Oh, Lady Griggsby will be such a wonderful aid in running the household but she’ll really have to focus upon her duties as a mother, I think. It is truly going to be a blessing to host her.”

_Host me. _Vanessa felt a flicker of something light in her stomach. _So this is how you think it will be?_ She did not react, casting an expressionless gaze over the older woman that she knew was much too cold. In the awkward quiet that followed, she noted that her new husband was watching her, his eyes narrowed just slightly as he studied the way she had looked at his mother. He gulped down the rest of his claret and then moved to get up, bumping the table as he went without so much as an apology. Before he left the room, he made sure to lean over his mother’s shoulder and take her own glass of sherry from in front of her, dashing it back while the room became dead silent around them, the older Omega stiff with her lips tight together.

The Alpha snapped at the footman holding the rest of a bottle of dry white. “That. To my room. Now. In fact, you’ve two hands. _Bring another._”

In the midst of the shocked silence just after he’d gone, Vanessa stood, murmuring a quiet ‘excuse me’ to those present before she purposefully walked after him. Her slippers were quiet along the carpet and she could hear him storming up the stairs toward their shared suite. It was probably foolish to follow an Alpha so obviously drunk and angry but Vanessa had never been one to consider foolishness a detriment to character. She heard the door slam down the hall and hurried toward it before he could lock it, pushing it open quickly while her breaths came in nervous pants.

She was face-to-face with him, so close she could smell the wine on his breath, fruity and biting. Danger and the possibility of it made her flesh tingle and tightened her body’s natural responses so that her senses nearly overwhelmed her. She could see the small pinpoints of light reflecting in his eyes as his pupils widened to take in the sight of her in the dim room. She could smell every layer beneath his anger. She could feel his hurt as though she and this Alpha were one and the same.

“_Please,_” was the first word she said to him. A whisper. A plea. She hadn’t meant to say it. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted to accuse him of something. But there was too much hurt in him for her to place any blame over his shoulders. She was married to him. Connected to him by the thinnest of cords which could be severed by an annulment at any time before their consummation. She needed him. Desperately.

She was inside the room and he reached above her for the door, pushing it shut behind her while he leaned over her, looming like some dark spectre. His voice was low, growling and sticky. “_Do you really want to be here, Omega?_”

She had to take a moment to collect herself, swallowing her emotions and her fear of him before she replied. “You have need of me. You must be as desperate as I am. Elsewise you would not be here.”

There was a knock on the door which startled her and she slipped out of the way when it opened and the two bottles of wine were delivered. She waited while the Alpha placed them upon the table in the room and the tension seemed to ease when he casually opened one with just his fingers. He sloppily poured it into the two of the flutes delivered and picked up one of them.

His voice was still low but the anger in it seemed to lessen. “Your father makes good wine.”

“Alpha...I need your bite.”

He sipped at his drink, sucking at his lips while he peered at the bubbles in the glass. “I’m not interested.”

“Well nor am I, however we must take into account our obliga--”

“Banish it from your mind,” he interrupted, a little louder this time, his eyes flashing dangerously. “I’m _not interested._”

She blinked, breath drawing in with her frustrations mounting. “Alpha, you cannot think that they will accept that.”

“Then why don’t you simply suggest that you had a lovely time with me, rolling about in the sheets, giggling and happy and thoroughly _fucked?_” he snapped, whirling about toward the window. “It is not as though I have anything to _prove_. They won’t be looking for a virgin’s blood on the sheets.”

Her face was burning, her heart in her throat. She recognized him for what he was. Hurt. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry at everyone. Still, it stung. “I need to know that I will be safe, Alpha. There is nothing beyond that for me.”

He was still glowering out the window over the vineyards, his wine between his fingers and almost gone. “You don’t mean anything to me.”

Vanessa’s heart hardened. “You have such luxury, my Lord, of finding small inconveniences all around you that you can choose to place meaning upon. While I am dragged about at the whims of the men around me and forced to place meaning upon what should be, by all rights, meaningless. You are nothing more than what you can do for me, my Lord, and aside from that our feelings are the same.”

Griggsby’s teeth were bared in a snarl when he rounded upon her. “I am not some tool! I am not some _shelter!_ You cannot force me to do what you wish! _I will not be used by you!_” His _Alpha_ voice thundered through her soul and rooted her to the ground but she forced herself through it by brute will alone.

“Then annul this marriage!” she countered, and the draw of silence echoed between them as she saw flickers of a thousand different emotions pass through his features. One of them was _fear_. She grasped upon it, casting all her chips into the pot. “You won’t. You need this as much as I do. You are a slave to your circumstance. Bite me, Alpha. Take me. Use me and let me use you...I swear to you, my father’s money will more than make up for your inconvenience.”

A dullness came into his features and his eyes unfocused. All of his emotion was lost from his voice. “No amount of money can return what I’ve lost.”

Vanessa was too familiar with her own heartbreak not to recognize it readily in another. She felt the weight of his words and his emotions and she drew herself up, unsticking her feet from the floor when she made her way to the table and picked up her wine. She gulped at it, used to the biting dryness of it. When it was gone, she placed the glass down again and reached for the ribbons that held her dress together. “Take your clothes off, Alpha. If I’m to lie to everyone about our consummation, I’d best make it convincing--bite or not.”

At first, she was certain that he would refuse. But when she finally dropped her shift to the floor and she was nude before him, he reluctantly began to undress, his cheeks pink and his eyes anywhere else but upon her. He climbed under the sheets next to her and at first, they simply lay together, their hearts beating madly with nervous energy.

“You should scent me now,” she murmured softly. “So that it might mellow before morning…”

He turned to face her, wetness gathering in his eyes when he touched her for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa is bae. We have no choice but to stan.


	10. Chapter 10

Georgette was shedding her outer layers in the foyer before the footman could even come behind her to catch it. Nervousness had spiked her scent, giving it a sour, fruity fragrance which filled the entrance immediately as her cloak fluttered to the marble. She rushed toward the parlor and was intercepted by the huge presence of her husband who caught her by her elbows, his hands warm and his presence soothing.

“Where is he?” she asked, breathless. “I came as soon as I got your note and--”

His voice was low and sweet, his hands squeezing her arms to comfort her. “Calm yourself, we’re going to figure all of this out. He’s still a bit shaken.”

“Of course he is,” she replied, pressing past him and making her way to the parlor where she found Mortimer Stone sitting near to the hearth, a brandy in his hand half gone and his eyes tired and unfocused toward the fire. “Oh, Mr. Stone…” she sighed, crossing the room toward him until she could come to her knees by his chair, her gloved hands upon the armrest. “I cannot express my feelings...how have you come to us in such a state? I came as quickly as I could...please, for discretion not all was revealed in my mate’s note--tell me what’s happened, I beg.”

His exhausted gaze came to her, his eyes a dull hazel. The voice that came from him was weighted by loss and Georgette had to hold back her sorrow from the sound of it. 

“He’s gone.”

“You went to his home and…”

“The servants told me that he’d left. They wouldn’t tell me more. Only that the master of the house had gone and that they did not know when he would return.” He blinked, his eyes losing her and drifting to the side. “I thought he must have come to London...but when I arrived here, I came to find him and he is not here either. My Lady, I am at a loss. I’ve spent the last few days wandering about trying to find him and here I have now landed at your mercy. If he has taken refuge with you--you should tell me, for I fear the worst.”

She put out her hand, touching his arm gently. His mild Beta scent was rife with grief and his clothes were rumpled. “Mr. Stone, you cannot despair. Tris surely would not leave you wanting for an explanation on his own. How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

Stone blinked, his eyes glistening, “Six days. Our parting was so joyful and I had thought him merely coming to terms with our bond--”

“Bond?” Wendell asked softly from the door, approaching then as a looming presence in the room.

A nervous spike transformed the Beta’s scent and Georgette looked back toward Wendell. “Darling, would you fetch me a bottle of sherry from the kitchen?”

The Alpha paused, giving Stone a concerned stare as he comprehended her meaning and then slowly turned around. He would fetch the sherry though he knew she didn’t need it and he would be back within ten minutes. It was enough time for him to rethink whatever it was he was about to say and for her to gather more information to lessen his reaction upon his return.

When she turned her attention back to Stone, she tilted her head to implore him. “You bonded with him?”

He nodded weakly, covering his eyes with his free hand to hide his tears from her. “I bit him…”

“_You_ bit _him._ Oh...well that certainly puts a spin on it, does it not?” She tapped her lips with her finger. “And he’s not in London? Or perhaps he _is_ in London.”

The man wiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm, his voice strained. “What do you mean?”

“Do not fret overly, though this is possibly the worst of outcomes...I should think that there is only one happening that could have passed in which he could have disappeared so quickly.”

“That is?”

“His mother has discovered you. If they are in London, she will have told all of her staff not to tell you that he is here.”

Stone was overcome again with his grim melancholy and he hid his tears again. “This is all my fault. I should never have agreed to bite him. I’ve caused all of this.”

“No…” she tried, squeezing at his arm. “I can only imagine that when he asked you, it was with his whole heart. You’ve given him something beautiful, Mr. Stone. You should see how he wrote about you in his letters.”

He took his hand from his eyes and stared at her, his cheeks wet. “He spoke of me?”

“I’m his bosom friend, of course he told me about you,” she smiled, hoping that it was a reassuring sort of smile. “I was with him when he first laid eyes upon you. I could swear it was love from that very moment and now that I know what it has blossomed into, I am even more resolved that I was right.”

“I have harmed him, nevertheless.”

“Perhaps that is not what has occurred,” she tried. “Perhaps we will talk to our mutual acquaintances and we will find out where he is and then we shall know.”

Stone shook his head. “If it comes out that I have been the cause of all of this, I do not know how I could face him. Whatever has happened to him in these days since--I am responsible and I cannot know how I should look at him again knowing that this has come from my own actions. My own hubris. I should have known not to indulge him in something so scandalous. What if they have taken him away to an asylum?”

“Lady Griggsby would do no such thing...at least...I do not believe that she would.” Georgette frowned, blinking twice and wondering just how unlikely such a scenario was.

It was at this moment that Wendell reappeared in the doorway and came to her, the bottle of sherry in his hand. His voice was low and moderated carefully so as not to startle the grieving Beta. “I’ve a plan. I will go to Tristan’s house here in town tomorrow during calling hours. His mother has no reason to believe me a threat to him. If he is in town, I should be able to find him. If not, I shall ask about in his usual haunts. There are still lords trickling in here and there for the season and one of them might have heard something.”

“His usual haunts…” Georgette repeated, staring at him meaningfully. He couldn’t mean…

“Blakely’s,” he confirmed.

“You’ve never been…”

“Of course not, what the hell would I do at a molly house? But if anyone would know where he was, surely someone there might have heard…”

Stone leaned forward, his red-rimmed eyes clear and bright upon Wendell’s face. “A molly house. Blakely’s...I’ve heard of this place. You think they would know where he was?”

“It’s possible,” Wendell told him. “I’ll go. It’s suited toward Alphas, no one will bat a lash at my being there...that is, unless they know me. And if they know me, they’ll be very confused.” He sniffed out a little laugh. “Don’t worry, Mr. Stone. We’ll help you find Tris. We’re just as attached to him as you are and have been for a long time.”

Stone seemed to relax at that, his muscles losing most of their tension as he sat back in the chair and remembered suddenly that he was holding a brandy, bringing it to his lips with a trembling hand. “And if he _is_ in an asylum?”

Georgette squeezed his arm. “He’s not, dearest. He’s not. And if he were, we would find him and get him out by whatever means necessary. I do not jest when I tell you that I would rip any place apart brick by brick to remove him.”

They placed Stone in a room and she hoped that he would sleep. She instructed a footman to deliver him more brandy to his room so that perhaps it might help him sleep but she wasn’t certain at all that it would. Left in the parlor in her party gown with Wendell, she was at a loss as to what to do or what to say. Tris was bondmarked and missing and this simply had to be the work of his scheming and terrible mother. The possibilities of outcomes had her stomach dropping.

She almost didn’t recognize her own voice. “Where do you think he is?”

Her Alpha’s ice blue eyes were sharp in the dim light. “I think she’s done something to him. I don’t know what it is yet but it’s been six days. Anything might have happened…”

“An asylum?”

“No...not yet, anyway. She could if she wished. An Alpha with a bondmark would be accepted no question but he’s a Viscount...there would be such a stir. We would have heard of it. No, she’s hidden him somewhere…”

She couldn’t think of it anymore and so she went to him, allowing him to gather her into his arms and touch the back of her neck, applying a small amount of pressure there to relieve her of the tension she carried. She barely noticed when he lifted her so easily and took her to their room, undressing her and settling her into bed with him. He was so big. So warm. So very much her mate.

Mortimer Stone was in his bed alone tonight, she thought, and by God, she was going to find out why.

She did not see Stone for the morning the next day and it was only around three o’clock after Wendell had left to call upon Tris at his London home that he wandered into the drawing room. His clothes had been laundered and pressed overnight and so he was looking at least a little less haggard though his hair was unkempt and his eyes still tired. A small bit of growth had been allowed to shadow his chin and cheeks, giving him the appearance of a man at least five years older than his true age.

“Wendell has just gone out…” she tried softly, putting down her book. “Please, Mr. Stone. Sit with me.”

He did, settling himself down politely in one of the chairs. “I apologize for how I must look,” he began, “I do not think I will sleep until I know he is safe.”

“No one could blame you, Beta. He is your mate, after all.”

“Yes.” His eyes closed and he covered them with his hand, leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair. Lack of sleep had made living very difficult and it was only so plain to see in the way his body slightly trembled and his focus waned.

“Tris has always been a little melancholy...ever since I met him. It has been such a joy to see him come to life with you. His letters were so hopeful and I am overjoyed that his hope was not in vain. That you truly are a man who loves him how he is meant to be loved.”

Stone breathed in a shuddering breath through his nose, his words mumbled in reply. “And still, I cannot protect him. I am rather useless as a mate.”

Georgette drew up, unsure what she could do or say. “I daresay you are in no fashion useless, sir. It is only that you are what you are...your circumstance does not lend itself to rushing in with swords drawn.”

Stone shook his head slowly, his eyes still covered. “I can only hold a sword...I cannot use it. I have never been placed in such a position in which I would have to don shining armor. I feel so hopeless.”

“It is tempting to hold to hopelessness when one has had so little sleep. We will find Tris and then, when we do, you will know that he is safe wherever he is and you will sleep then. You cannot come back to him having let yourself waste away like you have.”

“I fear I will not be able to come back to him at all. It is my bite that’s done this.”

“A bite he very clearly wished for greatly. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Stone let out a small breathy laugh. “I’ve done much that is considered quite wrong in the eyes of decent society. I am a Beta man with such pride that I was compelled to give a bondmark to an _Alpha_. There are those among society that should like to have me hanged for such deviance. I’m no more than a disgusting aberration to them.”

“We are, all, afflicted with indecent thoughts and sometimes indecent actions which have no bearing upon anyone save ourselves or our lovers. There is nothing that society can tell you that bears any weight when you are in a bedroom alone with your mate.”

“You must be right,” he conceded. “Else there would be no Blakely’s.”

“I am right. Now then...let me read to you. Perhaps there is some poetry here which could soothe some of your nerves...or at least pass the time until Wendell returns with news.

Stone eventually laid himself down upon the davenport, his arm flung over his eyes and perhaps he slept while she read--she could not be certain--but he did not move for a long time, his chest rising and lowering softly as the afternoon gave way to evening. She let him lay there through supper time and she snacked upon fruits and some small meats, hoping to sup with Wendell when he arrived.

Of course, when he did arrive, she wasn’t certain her stomach could handle food. Not from the way he looked and the way he smelled. His countenance was dark, his black brows knitted together with consternation as he stalked into the drawing room and paused at the doorway. The scent of him wafted toward her and roused Mr. Stone who blinked away what could have been sleep from his eyes and sat up. Wendell’s scent was buried in the sticky pheromones of a dozen or so Alphas and still, she could detect his ardent frustrations.

Stone did not speak, he merely looked up at him, his body braced for news of the worst sort.

“He’s not in an asylum,” Wendell announced, his tone low and grave.

Georgette breathed. “Thank heavens.”

The Alpha moved into the room, his boots heavy on the rug before he slumped down into a chair. “He’s not at his house here. I left my card and called upon a few of our mutual friends to see if they’d seen him. When they had not, I even took the time to visit with Asterly. If there is anyone on Earth who might actually be able to do something about all this--it’s him.”

Georgette put her hand to her mouth. “You did not...you did not tell him about…?”

“No. I did not divulge any secrets. Only that Tris was likely at the mercy of his mother’s whims. A Duke holds far more power than I should things become dire...though I cannot say that things are not dire already.”

Stone blurted, “What do you mean? How are they dire?”

“After I had exhausted my own resources, I did go to Blakely’s and I was met with some resistance when I asked after him. They are very protective of their own and I am not known in many circles as a friendly Alpha to them. After I managed to explain myself, they were more forthcoming about their knowledge of him. Apparently there is a somewhat viable rumor floating around about him and I daresay that now, it holds some weight. I am loathe to tell you this, Mr. Stone…”

“_Please…_” the Beta begged, coming from his seat upon the davenport and kneeling on the floor instead, desperate for news.

Wendell sighed heavily. “I’ve reason to believe that Tristan has, in the course of these past few days, been _married._”

“Married?” Stone asked, his eyes dulling considerably as he sat back on his heels, his shoulders slumping and his hands limp in his lap.

Georgette felt a hard ball of indignation rise in her belly. “Married to _whom_, exactly?!”

Stone replied to her then, his voice as dull as his eyes. “It doesn’t matter. He is...beyond me now.” He got up and she thought he might collapse for how weak his steps appeared when he left, retreating back to his room for the night.

She peered at her mate, “What are we going to do?”

“What is there that we can do? Send him up some warm milk with brandy and give him a bath. Make sure he does not drown himself. We should care for him in the coming days. He’s lost a great deal tonight and it will serve him to have a good friend at his side.”

“That cannot be all…”

“But it is...at least for now. Until we know more, there is nothing to be done.”

She felt the stab of hopelessness finally prick at her heart and a hard lump formed in her throat. “_Oh, Tris…_”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halwill is actually a good friend and human.
> 
> Poor Mort! Poor Tris!
> 
> **Up Next:** Vanessa gets down to business. >:3


	11. Chapter 11

If only it were warm outside, Vanessa lamented as she peered through the window. It was morning and she smelled of Alpha and malcontent. If it were warm, she could have wandered through the vineyard and let the breeze wash over her. She could have taken in the scent of the vines and of nature and let everything be lost to the gentle wind for a little while. As it was, she was trapped in this house with people who didn’t know her, didn’t care for her, and could never understand her.

_If only Olive were here…_

That was a useless thought and so she quashed it, her eyes drawn to the door of the parlor in which sat when movement there stirred her from her thoughts.

_Oh. It’s only him._

His name was Tristan. It seemed like a very apt name for him. A tragic soul who seemed more than well-suited to accepting that tragedy was all that would ever occur in his life. Of course, such pessimism was not something that Vanessa was well-suited to at all, and so she generally left him to his own brooding and kept her thoughts on their circumstance to herself. Still, sometimes she thought that it was very possible the man was more than she had allowed herself to think of him. He spent most of his days in a semi-coherent fugue and often could not even be drawn to the present long enough to do more than eat a little or drink a ridiculous amount of alcohol--enough that she thought perhaps he was trying to kill himself with it.

“Good morning, Tristan,” she muttered, expecting him to ignore her like he usually did when he was brooding.

“Good morning.”

She blinked in surprise, looking up at him fully to find his tired gaze fully upon her. Vanessa almost felt as though he were seeing her for the first time as he stood there in the doorway and looked at her with clear eyes. “How are you feeling, Alpha?”

He rubbed at his forehead with his fingers. “Is it just you in here?” he asked, peering over his shoulder out into the hall.

“Yes…”

“Frankly, I feel like shit.”

She tried to hide her amusement but she feared a bit of her smirk escaped at the corner of her mouth anyway. “I think you’ve imbibed nearly half of my father’s liquor supply over the last few days. I’m surprised you’re still above-ground.”

He sank down into a chair near to her. “I recalled you being impudent.”

“And I am _still _impudent and I _will be_ impudent for the rest of my life.”

“Good,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “I fear that in being attached to my family, you’ll need some of that.”

She stared at him, wishing that there were some way to know what was lurking in the man’s heart. Was he trustworthy? What did he mean by his words? How could she know when to press him for _more_?

The Omega was running out of time. Soon, she would have a rounded little belly and it would be only too obvious to him that he was not the father of her pup. At least, if he could bring himself to take her, she could stress herself into a heat and pretend shock when she was with child so soon after. She was uncertain whether it would become more or less difficult to seduce him if she knew him better.

She steeled herself. “You’ve been drunk for the better part of three days.”

“Three days…” he parroted, still rubbing his eyes. “God, if only I could be drunk for the rest of my life.”

“Three days is quite enough time.”

“Is it?”

“Do you remember our wedding night?”

“Vaguely.”

She sniffed. “You did not bite me.”

His brows knitted and he gave her a soft glare, his voice dark. “And I _won’t_.”

“Any reason why?”

“I believe I told you then. I am not to be used.”

“You’ve already been used. Our parents have used you. Used me. We are the rags that have mopped up each other’s messes and we have been tossed in the same wash bin together. Though we may not care for each other, we served a purpose. Now all we can do is hope to survive the wringer together.”

His lips tightened. “A rather decent analogy, at least.”

“I need your protection. Alphas are born to protect Omegas...this is your instinct. Help me and I will help you however I can.”

“How do you expect to help me?” His expression was incredulous and merely served to bolster her reserve.

“I am your wife. There are things your wife can do that no one can argue.”

“More than what I, myself can do?”

Vanessa smiled and knew that it unnerved him. “Oh yes. Far more. You’ve no idea what a proper wife can do for you. Not only that, I...well I...” Her cheeks pinkened.

“You’re going to suggest something lewd.”

“I was merely going to remind you of my _duties_.”

“I’m not interested.”

Her brows came together. “Again, Alpha, that is instinct.”

“Hardly. I’m very composed. Even a heat won’t touch me.”

“Now you’re just being spiteful.”

Tristan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees while he studied her. “You’re rather keen to perform these duties. I might venture to guess that such a disposition has not come about through your _instinct_, Omega.” His eyes narrowed and the side of his mouth turned up toward a small grin. His voice lowered to no more than a murmur. “_You’ve a little secret, do you not?_”

Vanessa felt her heart launch up into her throat as her breath caught.

“Oh do not give me such terrified eyes. No Omega begs for a man she doesn’t love to bed her out of heat. The only reason you’re desperate for my touch is so that you’ll have a plausible reason to be waddling about in a few months. Pardon my frank speech, but you’re not very subtle, yourself.”

“I…”

“You were hoping that you could pretend the pup is mine.”

Her fingernails were gripping the upholstered arms of the chair so hard she thought they might snap and she found herself shaking with her nervousness. “I...well...I…”

“_Vanessa,_” he cooed. It was the very first time he had ever said her name and when it came from his lips, it was like drizzled honey. “Calm yourself. That pup is my heir.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to touch you. I don’t have to. You’re already having my heir.” He sighed again and leaned back in the chair, pinning her with a somewhat satisfied expression. “Hmm. I’m rather proud of myself for having deduced that one. Not that it helps me very much at all, but at least it helps you. Now you don’t have to bother playing my little whore.”

Vanessa was speechless for a few moments, her mouth open while she stared at him, taking in his nonchalance and unable to process it properly through her shock. “You don’t intend upon...upon...getting rid of me?”

“What good would that do me?” he grumbled. “My mother would be pushing me off a damned cliff if I announced I was annulling anything. Aside, your father thinks we’ve been fucking for a good three days already.”

She perched on the edge of her seat, making certain that there was no one near the door before she leaned forward toward him. “Take me to London. For the season.”

Tristan groaned, his expression pained and his scent giving off a distinctly noxious fume that had her reeling.

“Oh my god, Alpha.”

“I can’t take you to London. I can’t be seen with you. I’ll slit my wrists before I attend a single bloody party. Gods, I can’t believe I haven’t thrown myself from the parapets already with how my mother is gloating.”

She couldn’t help but feel a little pinch at that one. “Why are you so embarrassed of me? The ton have not heard of me...they cannot know that the child is not yours.”

“I am a renowned bachelor,” he replied easily. “Arriving into town _married_ would make me even more likely to put a pistol in my mouth.”

“Then your country estate.”

This time, his _Alpha_ voice hit her like a runaway lorry. “_No._”

Her whole body tensed and she let loose a sharp cry at the force of it. She had been unprepared for this one and it took her a few moments to relax, in which he was explaining himself.

“You don’t understand what’s happened and I...I can’t tell you. It’s not that I don’t think you’ve a right to know--surely you must--it is only that I am fairly confident that if you did know, you would likely side with my mother and that is not something I could handle right now.”

Her voice came back to her with a few calming breaths. “You are going to have to take me somewhere, we cannot spend the rest of our lives living with my father. He hates me enough as it is. All I ask is that we go with a three day head-start.”

“Why?”

“Will you simply do as I ask? You will not bite me, you will not bed me, and you will not _listen to me._ How useless are you to become to me?”

He frowned at her. “I am the Viscount, the Alpha…”

“A lot of good that does you if your mother can lead you around by your ear. If you wish for her influence to cease controlling your life, you will listen to me and give me what I wish. You may be the Alpha but I am the Omega and what starts with you, ends with me. If you want your life back in your own hands, you will give us a three day head-start to London and you will promise your mother anything you have to promise to get us there _without her_.”

Despite his brooding silence upon the matter over the course of the next twenty-four hours, Vanessa was not at all disappointed with the results. Whatever the man told his mother, it must have worked, for they were in the coach on the way to London the very next morning. His scent, it seemed, had leveled out a bit and there was something in it that had tempered his lingering grief. That was certainly for the best, she thought to herself when she sat across from him, sharing the thick wool blanket that was spread out over their laps. He was a decent sort, if not a little stubborn, and she was beginning to see exactly how this marriage was going to work. She had thought herself to become a demure and quiet little wife to a graceless prig of an Alpha twice her age. Now, she peered upon him and recognized herself within him--her own heartbreak and her own reluctance to trust. They had more in common than they had differences and she would do well to remember that when next he vexed her.

His voice was low and raw when he spoke to her, the mansions of town coming into view before he had found his tongue. “I had thought that we would be coming to London before. That I would be married here.” He sniffed out a small laugh. “I had thought I might escape.”

“Mmm, yes. I had thought something a little similar. I had thought that should I at least have a bite on me, I could be whisked away into some fantasy...but my mate--” She flicked her eyes up to him, waiting for him to correct her somehow. He didn’t, merely staring at her very placidly. “My mate...Olive...she thought perhaps she could convince my father of her merit. Obviously, you have seen the results of that.”

“Hmm,” he replied thoughtfully. “Olive...was she a footman?”

Her cheeks were hot. “Yes. Very dashing, she was.”

Tristan was smiling softly. “Your face becomes soft when you speak of her.”

“I love her,” Vanessa told him plainly. “Still. Very much.”

He was quiet for a little while and she knew that he was looking at her, studying her in a quiet fashion that made her self-conscious and yet profoundly warm. “You’re...you’re not wrong for that.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” His brows quirked upward and she blinked up into his eyes. “You can’t help who you fall in love with.”

She sighed. “You know, you’re a far cry from the man who yelled at me in our bedroom a few days ago.”

“I’m not drunk and fuming with rage.”

“Thank heavens. Oh...we’re here. I hope you do not mind if I do a little changing of the guard while we’re here?”

He tilted his head. “My Lady, if you haven’t heard, you are married to the Lord of this house. That makes you the Lady of this house.”

She felt her mouth get pulled upward at the corners and a giddy tingle begin in her chest. “That’s right. I am the Lady of this house…”

“You may do whatever it is that you wish, my Lady,” he told her as he debarked from the coach, offering her his hand for her to step down. “You had better do it today, anyway. I’ve no idea how long my mother will really leave us to our own devices. So if you’re looking for a new set of rugs or a new butler--you’d best do it tonight.”

She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “You would let me redecorate your whole house?”

“I insist that you spend your entire dowry doing just that...to this house and the country estate as well. I do hate my mother’s designs...in fact, I should like to never see her influence again if you could help it.”

Vanessa turned to him upon the top step before the door, stopping him so short that her hands were upon his chest while her breath formed a cloud between them. “Tristan…”

He was smiling that soft, sad little smile again. “What is it, pet?”

“You are not joking?”

“No. Please. Do whatever it is you thought you might do when you wished to come here without my mother in tow. I do not jest. We have plenty of money and even more from your father. If you wish for gowns, buy gowns. If you wish for diamonds, buy diamonds. If you wish to make my mother the unhappiest old crone who ever croned, then you have my absolute blessing to do so.”

Vanessa’s smile was wide before she walked through the door and told the butler holding it: “You’re dismissed.” She then took a sweeping look at all the servants who had lined up to greet the new lady of the house and grinned at them all. “You’re all dismissed. _Every last one of you._”

It didn’t take very long at all for word to get around that they had arrived in town, especially as she had put the call out for new servants to interview and soon, she found that she was receiving invitations to gatherings. With only half the number of staff they should have had--a cook, Bess as housekeeper, and a handful of maids and footmen--she wasn’t certain that she could feel overly comfortable going out, but appearances were worth investing in, she supposed, and so she brought one small envelope to Tristan in the evening on their third day in London.

“My Lord?”

He was busily pulling up strips of the wallpaper, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and a knife he’d been using to peel it away between his teeth. “Ehn?”

“There is a gathering at a Mrs. Asher’s home tonight. I thought I might attend. It would only be right of me to make an appearance now that we have been in town for a few days. I thought perhaps you may wish to--”

He let the knife drop from his mouth to his hand. “No.”

“Not even one?”

“I told you before that I would not be going to any parties and I intend to keep my word. I will pull up as many gaudy carpets as I can while you’re off cementing yourself as Lady Griggsby. I’m about as interested in season parties as I am in fucking you.”

She flushed at his bawdy language, fanning herself with the small envelope. “I do hope that whenever you do deign to be seen with me, you are a little more judicious with your verbiage.”

He turned around to face her and smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, pet.”

“Alright. I will go tonight. Alone. And if I see any of your acquaintances, I will be certain to let them know that you are…” She waved about the envelope, looking for him to provide his answer.

“Drowning in marital bliss.”

“And liquor.”

“And liquor,” he agreed, turning back around to poke at more of the stubborn wallpaper.

As far as husbands went, she could have done much, _much_ worse. Bess helped her with her hair and her gown and her driver took her to Mrs. Asher’s home where she was introduced as Lady Griggsby and led into the drawing room before supper. It became a sort of dawning realization for her that when Tristan said he did not wish to attend parties with her, it really was because he was truly a _renowned_ bachelor. Most of the people attending didn’t know what to say to her, in awe that Griggsby had taken a wife and one whom they did not know and had never before heard of. She was, by all rights, unremarkable save her beauty, which seemed to be her only saving grace for the affections of those attending.

She was monopolized by Mrs. Asher for at least half an hour until the woman was distracted from her interrogation by the arrival of a Lady Halwill who strode into the room like some sort of fae goddess, all blonde and pink with a tousled-looking Beta on her arm who was introduced as a Mr. Stone. Vanessa, thankful for the reprieve, had her hopes of a subtle retreat dashed completely when Mrs. Asher took her arm and led her to the Viscountess who mirrored her curtsy politely while Mr. Stone bowed, his hazel eyes dull and disinterested.

Mrs. Asher was fair beaming with self importance as she made the introductions. “Lady Halwill, Mr. Stone, this is the new Lady Griggsby! Is she not a vision? This is the first of her forays into the season and can you believe, they’ve been hiding her in the country for the whole of her life? What a terrible fate that must have been. Thank goodness she’s here now, of course. A dream of a girl, isn’t she?”

Lady Halwill was staring at her, her face frozen into a shade of politeness while her scent tumbled through a thousand different emotions. It was not Lady Halwill who drew Vanessa’s attentions, however, as the Beta by her side had lost all blood to his face and was rudely staring at her, his eyes wide and his scent nipping as though a biting winter wind. The tension in his body was so great that she was sure that he might tumble over and in fact, he nearly did. The huge and warm presence of an Alpha came behind him and his other arm was gripped just as it seemed his legs failed beneath him.

“Upsy-daisy, Mortimer,” the Alpha murmured, smoothly turning the Beta around and supporting all his weight, the toes of his boots dragging along the floor as he was taken from the room back into the front hall and out of the sight of everyone in the drawing room.

Mrs. Asher had a hand to her breast. “I say...is Mr. Stone feeling alright?"

Lady Halwill produced her fan, clearing her throat delicately. “The poor man has, in the past few days, had a bit of a shock. I believe I may have overestimated his ability to handle company. The fault is mine. My husband will see to him. I apologize, Lady Griggsby. It is nothing to do with you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Vanessa provided softly, doing her best to appear as non-threatening as possible. The woman was clearly issuing soft, meaningless apologies. It was most _certainly_ something to do with Vanessa though she could not grasp as yet how she could have produced such a reaction.

Lady Halwill smiled, the expression clearly one of cautious politeness. “Why do we not sit and come to know each other? A girl such as yourself without proper connections should be in want of certain influences, I imagine. Perhaps I can be of some use to you.” She led Vanessa beyond Mrs. Asher’s reach and sat her down upon the davenport. She accepted a glass of sherry from one of the servants and sipped it gracefully, a slight tremble in her hand. “You are not here with your husband…”

“He declined the invitation.”

Lady Halwill nodded lightly. “Yes...he does so often become bored with dinner parties.”

“You know him.”

The woman’s light blue eyes flashed up to Vanessa’s and there was something inside them that was brilliant and intelligent. Vanessa knew the truth then that was reflected in that gaze. _I know more of him than you ever shall. _

“I see. It...it must be a shock to you that he married me. Please...if it comforts you, think nothing of it.” She looked around her to make certain that she might not be overheard and she leaned forward, her voice low. “If you seek to continue an affair with him, by all means, my Lady. We are not intimate…”

A soft and quiet giggle loosed from the Viscountess’ mouth and she covered her lips with her fingers. “Oh...an affair, dear me…”

Vanessa’s brows dipped down a bit. “You...you do know him…”

Lady Halwill’s hand came out and her fingers touched over Vanessa’s hands. “You are a very darling girl...but I am not Tristan’s affair...nor his reason for his mother’s careless rage. I cannot share with you the cause if he has not…”

She nodded. “I see…”

“Stay by my side tonight. I am without a companion and I dearly wish to know you further. As Tristan’s friend, I have to assure myself that he is in gentle hands.”

“Of course, my Lady.”

And so it was that for the whole of the night, she was at the Viscountess’ elbow though there was very little in the way of discussion regarding Tristan, the fact of which, Vanessa was rather peeved. She found herself wanting to know more about him. How he had come into her life. How he was regarded by his peers. Lady Halwill was clearly close to him upon a level that was so near to confidante and lover that it was impossible to know whether or not she lied about the affair--surely the woman could not be so comfortable in him without and yet the course of their evening in which she spent so much time at ease beside Vanessa--how could she ever have held him as a lover?

The confusion inside her was so marked that when she returned home, she was compelled to find him. He was not in the drawing room and the hour was late so she marched to her room but paused at his door. She contemplated it for a few moments before she reminded herself that she was his _wife_ and had lain in bed with him fully nude before. Without preamble, she, turned the handle and let herself in, her words already tumbling away.

“Tristan, you will not believe what occurred at Mrs. Asher’s home tonight, I--”

She paused, her mouth shutting tight as her body froze and her hands came to her chest. Embarrassment flooded her as she realized suddenly she had caught him just after his bath. Her face filled with blood, heating up hotter than she ever thought it could when he peered at her over his shoulder, his towel over his front while Vanessa got a rather full view of his rather handsome backside. Still, through her embarrassment, she blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. Her eyes were caught by the presence of a portion of male anatomy she would have left undiscovered had it been up to her--that was, the soft-looking sack that was tucked behind the common Alpha shaft--but there was something more compelling lingering just off to the side upon the flesh of his thigh.

_Is that a…?_

She blinked again, frowning.

_A bondmark?_

Her mouth opened but her voice wouldn’t come until he had wrapped the towel about his waist. “Oh, my god.” Sudden understanding rushing into her soul and her eyes found his, annoyed at her presence and obviously sore that she had seen what she had. “I...I apologize...I…”

His eyes rolled at her stammering. “Tell me what you want to say. I’ve heard it before. I’m disgusting and a pitiful deviant. I’m shameful and awful and all that. Yes, yes...” He waved his hand about in the air and then wandered over to the table in his room where a bottle of wine sat with a glass beside it.

“Tristan…” she tried, while he poured. “You’re...you’re a very kind Alpha.”

He frowned at her skeptically. “Well...that’s different.”

She felt a prickle in her heart. His love was not so different from hers. To be forbidden was very much the same no matter how one managed to slice it. The simple fact that his love was even less advisable than hers--well, that only made her feel more for him. The events of the night replayed through her memory and she nearly gasped aloud. “_Tristan…_”

“What?” he asked, clearly unnerved by the way things had gone this evening already. He was taking long sips of his wine and looking around the room as though he were seeking to dress.

“I was going to tell you what happened this evening.”

“All about how you met some odious people, I’m sure.”

“Not odious at all,” she retorted, her emotions like static in her soul. “I met a very curious person. A Lady Halwill.”

Tristan froze, his head whipping up to look at her. “_Georgette is in town?! _Gods, what did she say?”

“No matter what she said, Tristan! You should have told me about all this. It makes so much sense now.”

“What does?”

She blinked, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “The reaction I caused with the gentleman she came with.”

“Lord Halwill?” he asked, taking a sip.

“_Mr. Stone._”

Wine sprayed out of Tristan’s mouth as he gasped and coughed. What was left in his glass sloshed out over his hand and dripped on the ornamental rug beneath him and he clumsily set it down on the table with a glassy thunk.

She spoke through his sputtering. “You and he were lovers. I knew it. I didn’t know it then but that’s the only reason for him to have reacted the way he did to me. I thought he was going to faint dead away, Tristan, I really did.” She waited while he coughed, doubled over with his weight supported by the table. “No wonder Lady Halwill was so cautious with me. She knew! How absolutely terrible for the both of you. I imagine your mother is blackmailing him.”

“_My mother_,” Tristan growled, “is blackmailing _me_.”

“Ah...that’s how she got you married. Well that’s done now, isn’t it? You should surely be able to smooth things over if she’s not got her claws into him.”

He marveled at her, turning around to face her while he wiped his mouth, his body trembling. “It’s not so simple. She _knows_ it’s his bite. If she were to suspect…”

Vanessa drew in a sharp breath. “Ah...I see.”

“Do not place hope in my heart when there is no room for it there,” he told her, brandishing a finger. “There is as much hope for me as there was for Icarus halfway through his plummet into the sea. You are...” He sighed through his nose. “You are _such_ a loving little creature. Omegas...you’re not all like that. But you are beautiful, sweet, and so naive. My mother would skin me alive if she discovered...”

“Tristan...you cannot give up on love…”

“Omega…” he breathed, moving to sit on one of his chairs near the fire. “You do not know the reality of my life. How much I have struggled with myself. Who I am. What I am. I found every happiness I could ever hold with Mort Stone and it was taken from me. And it can be taken again...should that happen, I swear to you, I will not survive it. I will take a pistol and I will place at my temple, and I will make absolutely certain it cannot happen again. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced that I will not still do that this time around.”

“_Tristan…_” she whispered in horror.

He put out a hand. “Vanessa, do not try me. I will not have your meddling in this. Men like me were not meant to love. We are aberrations.”

“That is _not true_.”

“You know it is. You’ve been taught your whole life that some love is sacred and wonderful and some love is disturbing and vile. The love between dynamics like mine and Mr. Stone...they are obscene. They are _uncommon_. Well...I’ll tell you, it is far more _common _than anyone might imagine. Even those who preach against men like me can be found _indulging_ in their private homes.”

“Yes, and my father has been bedding one of the maids since I was a little girl, I’m well aware of hypocrisy,” she shot back. “But all love is sacred.”

He got up from his seat and laid back on the bed with a huff and Vanessa came to him, climbing up onto the counterpane to peer down into his face. His words were soft as he looked up at her with mournful eyes. “I could not have been saddled with a better wife...but as sweet as you are and as well-meaning, you cannot know what sort of harm my love has done me...and my Mr. Stone. How did...how did he look?”

“Dreadful.”

Tristan closed his eyes, hurt in his expression. “I cannot see him. It would kill me to see him and have to refuse him. For his own safety. If she were to find out...if she were to reveal him, he would be left without safe harbor...I, at least, am a Peer. It would be nothing for them to imprison him...”

“You cannot give up.”

“You say that as though you do not put a man’s life at stake. _ I love him_, Vanessa...I cannot condemn him for the sake of it.”

Her mouth tightened at the side. “And so you condemn yourself--and him--to heartbreak. What sort of a selfish creature are you, Tristan? You should ask him if he would take the risk. It’s _his _life.”

“Why do your arguments have to sound so reasoned?” he asked, rolling away from her. “I’m tired, Omega. I spent the whole evening ripping up wallpaper and tearing up carpets. I should like to go to sleep.”

She loomed over him on her hands and knees to peer at his scowling face. “You are not an impossible man, Alpha. I know you will consider it. Mr. Stone is clearly attached to you.”

“And what are _you _going to do about it?”

Vanessa sat back on her heels, regarding the back of Tristan’s head with her mouth tight together while she contemplated the question. There wasn’t much she could do right at the moment, she thought, but there was plenty she could do. In fact, there was so much that she could do about it, she wasn’t certain if Tristan knew what he asked. Thoughts began flooding into her head and he must have smelled something in her scent for he rolled back over, his scowl still firmly in place.

“If I hear of you talking to him, I am going to lock you in a tower.”

“You would never,” she giggled.

“Did I not tell you not to test me? Go to bed, Omega.”

Feeling rather petulant, she slid off his bed and began to undress, shedding everything but her shift and setting the pins from her hair on the bedside table.

“What are you doing?”

“Forgive me, Alpha. Have you forgotten we’ve married? I believe I’ve got a particular right to your bed, do I not?”

“_Urrrrgh,_” he grumbled while he retreated beneath the covers, his towel a pile upon the floor. Still, as peevish as he was, he flipped the blankets down to admit her and when the lights were dimmed and the room quiet, he gathered her and scented her and held her softly, a big, gentle hand settled comfortably on the back of her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tris and Vanessa depression snuggles are a mood. Remember, I have a Discord Server. If you want to chat and hang out with other people who like what you like: **[CLICK HERE.](https://discord.gg/af7KvbT2AJ)**


	12. Chapter 12

Georgette was uncertain of what it was, exactly, that she should have been doing when she came home from Mrs. Asher’s town home. She shed her cloak and handed it off to a footman before she wandered to the parlor where she found no one waiting up for her. A level of concern was present in her heart, for she had never seen a man become so faint as Mort had that very evening when he had been introduced to the darling Omega--Tristan’s _wife_. She was almost certain that the poor man must have expired from a weak heart, though if that were the case, surely Wendell would have been there to break the news to her as soon as she came in.

She came to Wendell’s study and found him there, the end of his pen on his bottom lip while he thought of what he was writing. An Alpha was nearly always easy to read for the right Omega and here was her perfect match. He wanted to fix something--but he didn’t know how. She could certainly relate on that count, she thought. About half of his parchment in front of him was filled with his indelicate scrawl and she moved into the room, her slippers barely making a sound over the wooden floor as she went. He saw her, sitting back in his seat and putting an arm out as though to ask her to come into the circle of it so that he might bring his hand to her waist and pull her against him. He needed comfort.

Georgette came to him, letting him place his head against her chest while her hand came to his hair, petting him thoughtlessly. “Darling…”

He tossed his pen on the blotter. “I do not know what I can do. I cannot even compose a letter to Asterly which can convey my meaning. How can I express that I want him safe, that I want him protected, when the crime has already been done? Who is this girl? Where has she come from? Is there a method by which we may separate them?”

“How is Mort?”

Wendell sighed. “It is a difficult night for our friend.”

“I thought as much.” She held his head and his arm tightened around her waist. It was going to be a difficult night for all of them, it seemed. An Alpha was instinctively drawn to fixing issues when they arose and this was one with which Wendell already sensed defeat. Tris was married and this girl was already seen about town. Georgette kissed the top of his head, taking a breath of his sour frustration. “She is not evil. I know that about her already. She insisted to me that she and Tristan were not at all attached and that I should continue my affair with him if it so pleased me. I did correct her, though I did not tell her the truth.”

Wendell gave an amused little sniff at the thought of Georgette ever having developed an affair with Tristan. “She is, perhaps, a woman in dire straits herself. This whole disaster reeks of interference. But if Tristan’s odious mother has discovered his secrets, Mort _must_ remain safe somehow...she will destroy him if she can.”

Georgette’s eyes traced over her husband’s letter, an unfinished thought over the top of the page. “We cannot give up…”

“We cannot do anything. It is their decision where to go from here. Will they risk everything? It could mean prison for Mort…Tris would never ask that of him.”

“Do not finish your letter to Asterly. Go to see him again. He is accepting of Tris, is he not?”

“Yes...I believe he and his mate both to be very friendly to our cause.”

“Then tell them. Tell them everything. Tell them that there is a vicious rumor that needs to be quelled...that a fire will spread if it catches in London and that it must be dealt with before it has chance.”

“You are asking me to have very powerful people suggest that Tristan’s mother is not of sane mind. The only fashion in which one can stave off this sort of accusation before it has surfaced is by a subversive discrediting of the original author…” He took her by her hips and set her away from him a step so that he might look her in the eyes. “You want me to suggest that she is mad…”

“She _is_ mad. If she is willing to destroy her only son and the holder of her family title for her vanity then she _is insane,_ Alpha. Could you imagine? Could you imagine doing such a thing to your Lily Anna? Your Julia? Your Iris?”

“Never…”

“Then use that conviction I hear in your voice and protect your friend with it. In the morning, I will talk to Mort. He will, no doubt, be back to where we were when we started this with him but if he could survive then, he can survive now. Perhaps he will go back to the country...perhaps he will travel. It may be that he should get away for a little while. I am told that the south of France is very inviting…”

Wendell gave her a serious expression. “I am loathe to suggest this, my love...but perhaps you shall accompany him.”

“Accompany him? Me?”

“It would be wise, I think, to chaperone him while he grieves and heals. He cannot accomplish it in London. That is for certain.”

She nodded. He was right. She disliked it when Wendell was right about such distasteful things but she could hardly argue it. Mortimer would have to get away if he were to survive something so devastating as this. If Tris was unable or unwilling to put him danger then this was all that was left for their options. Mort would go to France with her and they would do their very best to move forward.

“What if,” Georgette tried, weakly, “...they want to give it a go?”

“Then we will orchestrate it best we can. But what is the likelihood of this?”

“Well...I suppose I do not know.” She took him then by his hands and led him upward and through the house to their bedchamber. When they were naked, she climbed atop him and straddled her thighs around his waist, squeezing him with her arms and legs as though she might melt right into his body. Closeness was all she could think about--this necessary interaction for her that she knew Mort Stone was missing in his life. It was heart-wrenching, the sort of loneliness that she could sense from him every moment he was awake and alert and aware of its weighted presence. There was a heaviness to his longing and to the isolation that haunted him despite his friends and their aid. She could barely stand to think of it and now every interaction she would have with her mate would cause her to think of it.

_I cannot rest until they are reunited. Somehow, they must be reunited!_

* * *

As it happened, Georgette was not the only woman to have this thought. She discovered this truth the next afternoon during calling hours after she had coaxed Mort from his room for a light breakfast of toast and eggs. He was resting in the small garden behind the house when Georgette was informed that she had a visitor waiting for her in the receiving room and that it was rather important to take this particular one. It was unfortunate that she would have to leave him for he seemed so tired and forlorn that it was difficult to walk away from him. He insisted that she go, of course, as he was not a frail, doddering old man and he would not be so terribly put out to be with his own thoughts for a while.

Vanessa Blackwell, Viscountess Griggsby was standing near to the window in the receiving room, watching the road outside almost as if she were expecting someone to arrive at any moment and tear her out of the room. Her eyes were dark and searching, even when she turned to look at Georgette, as if she sought for some unknowable truth of life and meaning. Deep, beneath the loveliness of her sweetened scent, there was something that lay still and quiet. A beast beneath the sea which slept fretfully now and could awaken at any moment.

“My Lady,” Georgette greeted her, their small curtsies performed at the same moment. “It is a pleasure to see you again so soon, please sit.” She moved around to the davenport and watched Lady Griggsby make her way to the settee. They sat at the same time and arranged their skirts. Georgette, in these short moments, really looked at her. In a simple day gown, the beauty of her was inspiring for there was not so much frill and lace and pearls to distract from the exquisite sculpture that was her face. Her cheeks were slightly pinkened, her lips were full, and the whole of her visage had the attraction of a classical beauty with expressive dark eyes and a proud nose. Had Tristan not been destined by the fates to love only men, he could have stood no chance against a woman so flawlessly crafted by the heavens.

“Forgive me for my earnesty, my Lady,” the woman pleaded, “It is only that I know you to be a kindred spirit to me.”

Georgette turned to the footman near the door and asked for some tea to get him out of the room. “You mean that I know your husband.”

“You know him well.”

“I do. Very well.”

She seemed to fight with herself, as though she were trying to gauge what she did or didn’t wish to reveal. “You are a woman who is considered perhaps his confidante?”

“Among noble women, any number of us might suggest that we are simply for the fact that it seems you are on the edge of revealing something utterly scandalous and we would wish to be privy to it at the first. Take care, my Lady, when you prod a woman so.”

“And yet it is this statement you’ve just made that should allay my fears of your sincerity. You truly must love him if you are so concerned for his secrets being revealed.” She sighed. “Tell me plainly--you know Mr. Stone...and you know of his relationship to my husband.”

“I do.”

“Then you must know that it has harmed me greatly to see his heart so darkened by the events which have transpired.” Her countenance hardened and it seemed the whole of her became looming and dark as though a cloud in her soul had passed over the shining warmth of her. “I cannot consider that it will go on. I cannot think that I have witnessed the death of something so profound and done nothing to halt its fatal course.”

“You come without him.”

“He will not hear of it. He told me that should he hear of my interference, he will lock me in a tower.”

Georgette let her smile spread to her ears and she chuffed a tiny laugh. “As though the man could lock you anywhere. You would slip beneath the crack of the door. I know a crafty woman when I see one.”

The Omega seemed to appreciate that little quip, her smile a ghost over her lips. “Despite all my craftiness, I think I need your help. You see, I am so new to him. He has placed some trust within me but I can only hope that I do not accidentally betray it. I wish to make everything easier for him but I fear that I may stumble and he will not forgive me.”

“Then we will take care.”

Lady Griggsby drew in a deep breath, and nodded lightly. “I think...well...I think something drastic must happen.”

At that very moment, they were both aware of movement in the door and it was not the tea arriving but a tousled and haggard-looking Mortimer whose eyes were fixed tiredly on the girl upon the settee.

“Mortimer,” Georgette tried, standing up suddenly. “I’d not expected you…”

His voice was low and rough but still quiet in his mildness. “I apologize. I did not mean to interrupt. It is only that I was sure I smelled…”

Lady Griggsby stood. “I could not be more sorry, Mr. Stone. I did not think of it when I came...that you might scent him upon me. Please...I do not come to harm you. In fact, the opposite is the truth. Please stay...for this concerns you and I should hate to leave you in the dark.”

Georgette studied him, certain that he would refuse. She was shocked when he did not, coming cautiously further into the room as the tea was delivered from behind him. She poured the first one for Lady Griggsby and the second for Mort, making sure that he was sitting down before she handed it to him knowing his unsteadiness. As she poured herself a cup, she mused, “Lady Griggsby was just suggesting that perhaps something drastic is in order...to right some wrongs that have occurred in these past few weeks.”

Mort’s eyes were dull as he looked at the woman in question, his hand slightly trembling when he brought his cup to his lips to sip.

Lady Griggsby nodded, uncertain. “I have replaced the whole of his staff here in town. They will be loyal to me.”

Georgette couldn’t help her dark snicker. “Ah...the dowager Viscountess has forgotten who becomes the strength when the heir has wed. How quaint.” At the woman’s smile, Georgette was certain she could see the large, yellow eye of that sleeping monster crack open.

“I had thought, Mr. Stone, that I could surely not survive knowing that I did nothing to aid you when it is in my power to do so.”

He stared at her listlessly, as though her words held no meaning to him.

“He is a darling man. I have not been married to him for very long at all and I can see that he has suffered as much heartbreak as I. My own mate is out of my reach but his is only streets away. I cannot help myself but I can do my best to help him...do you see?” Her face was unsure and she tilted her head a bit as she searched for his response.

Mort sipped his tea again before he set it down and rubbed his palms upon his thighs. “I think it was a mistake for me to have interrupted your tea.”

“Mr. Stone, please.”

He stood. “If you’ve any respect for me, my Lady, you might simply leave me be.” He was gone then, as though only a ghost of him had ever been present to begin.

Georgette blinked, frowning at the thought that perhaps the presence of him had merely been a very vivid daydream. “Gracious, one would think he could wisp into nothing.”

Lady Griggsby’s scent was very much dejected. “He will not fight for Tristan...and Tristan will not fight for him… It is only that they perceive the risk as too high and the losses acceptable when they are clearly not.”

Georgette sipped again at her tea. “Men are fools, that is plain enough.”

“Of course they are...I think that is the only true variable in my plan.”

She lifted a brow. “You have a plan? You know...I have a plan as well. Perhaps we tell each other our respective plans and see what we might discover is useful between the two of them?”

The Viscountess let Georgette have a small, bashful grin. “Might I dare think that perhaps you and I could become co-conspirators?”

“Oh yes. I daresay that would be a very safe assumption as of current. Tell me your plan, Omega, and I shall do my very best to complement your dastardly plot with my own.”

Lady Griggsby began, and Georgette listened, leaning forward and finding herself smiling very, _very_ wide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These bad bitches about to shank somebody. Or...somebody's reputation...
> 
> Next Chapter: Back to Tris' POV. Boy gets to finally be a hero.


	13. Chapter 13

Tris was very busy much of the time, finding that ripping up old wallpaper was very cathartic indeed when he was reminded with every tear that his mother was going to absolutely hate whatever it was that was going up afterward. The servants were, of course, right behind him, working tirelessly to install new, fashionable paper in the rooms he was finished with. They were such a great team that sometimes Tris thought he might have been holding them up and that they would do much better without him. Still, they seemed content to allow him to do whatever it was that he wished so long as it kept him happy and this was something he found relatively novel. His mother would have been most displeased with the idea.

He pulled and tore at the very last strip of wallpaper left in the house and let it drop to the floor; the last of a snakeskin which curled and slithered away from his feet over the hardwood. He put his fists on his hips and studied his handiwork, knowing that by this time tomorrow, the whole naked wall would be covered once again with Vanessa’s choices. She had a very lovely taste and she had taken care not to lay too heavily into the femininity of the spaces. She had fashioned most rooms to be very masculine indeed and he could have kissed her for it.

On the whole, he thought, he could not have done better for a wife if he had chosen for himself.

Of course, now that he was finished with this, he was still feeling very restless, his feet itching to run and his soul itching to _fly_. He wanted to shout. He wanted to jump. He wanted to run all the way to Mortimer Stone and trap him between his arms and scream at him that he loved him and he wanted him and to _damn_ the risks!

He could have torn a house down by its timbers with his bare hands. He could feel his blood flowing hot in his veins and so, when he heard the front door open and a small commotion occur in the foyer, he was ready for a fight.

It was fortunate that he was, he found, for when he came to inspect what the ruckus was about, he found the reddened visage of his mother staring accusingly at him from where she stood with her cloak still about her shoulders as she had refused to give it to the new butler.

“_Where is Bundly?!_” she screeched, her voice holding no threat to him where he stood halfway up the stairs. “_Who is this vagabond you’ve hired?!_”

A strong, stable voice sounded from the side. “Pardon, my Lady, it was I who hired Crossford as our butler. He came with stunning references.” Vanessa was looking brilliant this morning, her morning gown one with tufts of white feathers about the neckline and delicate lacework throughout. It formed to her and contrasted with her sable hair which was drawn up into a thick braid around her head, making her appear as ethereal as a faerie queen. The mischief glinting in her eyes was more in evidence of that, Tristan mused.

The Dowager Viscountess whirled about toward his wife and snarled wickedly, “_How dare you! How dare you come here and trounce all over the house I have made for us! You told me that you would bring him to heel--that you could turn him!_”

Vanessa glanced toward him, a placidness in her eyes, a soothing calm. “I lied to you, my Lady. I had never the intent to transform your son into anything that he is not. You may have your wish. I am with child. But it will come at a price.”

His mother recoiled, taking a step back in affront, her mouth open but speechless.

Vanessa walked toward the stairs, climbing up them, the train of her morning gown conforming to each step behind her. When she was with him, she smoothed back some of his hair that had fallen to his forehead and fixed his cravat. Then she turned about to face his mother again. “I am the Lady of this house. I am the Lady of all his houses. I will hire whomever I wish, I will bear his heir, and I will mold the future of this title. Should you wish to fight my power here, I will stop at nothing to protect my mate and my child.”

“You promised me that you would turn him…” she tried weakly. “And here I find that he’s poisoned your mind…”

“You are the poison,” Vanessa declared boldly. “Now go. You are not welcome in this house. You will find the country house to be more to your liking perhaps...though you will not find the same staff there either.”

Tristan marveled at her suddenly.

She addressed him, her voice soft. “I hope you do not mind...I did keep the old butler for you had spoken relatively fondly of him before...I did replace the rest. I hired them all from here and sent them all at once. It is unconventional, I know...”

He sighed with relief. “Thank you…”

Vanessa smiled softly but the glow about her was radiant, her scent very pleased to have his approval. “I won’t allow anything to happen to you, Tristan. I think...well...I think I just like you too much.”

A swell of something warm flowed in his gut and then welled up in his throat. “I...I say...I think I might tear up.”

Her smile transformed into a little grin. “You needn’t become overwhelmed.”

His mother found her voice, much to his chagrin, the sound shrieking and terrible. “_You are going to regret this. Both of you!_” She prattled on, her voice gaining in volume with every sentence.

Tristan still wasn’t looking at her, giving Vanessa a very open and appreciative stare. “I think I’ve been very tired of eating nothing but_ mouth-pie_ for so long. It would be nice to have a woman about with whom I could carry conversation.”

“Look no further, my Lord, for she is here.”

Tris, without thinking, leaned forward and laid a very tender kiss full upon Vanessa’s mouth, finding her very sweet and receptive, her lips plush and soft and her scent surprised but amenable. When he pulled back, he did so only to a few inches and he lowered his voice so that only she could hear, his mother’s careless screaming halting suddenly with her shock at their obvious affection. “Remind me to do something sweet for you.”

“Do something sweet for me.”

He smiled wide, his heart brimming with amusement. 

His mother whirled about and Crossford already had the door open for her, his face a mask of professionalism as he stared her in the eyes when she left, his challenge clear. _Do not harm my master, for I do not forgive easily._ He closed the door behind her and turned to the both of them before he bowed deeply and returned to his duties.

Vanessa let out a breath. “Well. That went pleasantly. She did not even need to take off her cloak.”

“Do you think that she will leave London?”

“No. I do not,” she replied. “Which is why I went to speak with your friend, Georgette. I must tell you, she is very industrious and very clever.”

He raised one brow. “What is it that you’ve done?”

Vanessa blinked innocently. “I swear to you, I’ve done nothing...save chat a little while in some drawing rooms.” She paused, catching his stare with beguiling eyes. “The _right_ drawing rooms.”

“You know, I came down here with my whole soul alight and you’ve stolen the fight right away from me. I’m still practically soaring with this feeling. I must do something. More than chatting in drawing rooms.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I cannot say…” His thoughts raced. “What...what is your mate’s name?”

She peered at him warily. “Olive...Olive Barton…”

“And was she given reference when she was dismissed?”

“No…”

He was off then and sure as rain, Crossford had suddenly appeared again to help him into his coat while Vanessa remained upon the stairs, her white morning gown shining as he opened the door and took one last look at her, stately and refined. She had more than exceeded his expectations for a wife and by god, he was going to exceed her expectations for a husband. He took a horse and rode steadily until he had arrived at last in early evening to the Wheatley estate. He was without a hat though at least he wore his coat and when he arrived, he stopped the butler from announcing him to ask after Olive Barton.

The man’s brows turned downward sharply as Tris produced a rather decent amount of cash from his pocket. “This is yours, good man, if you simply tell me where she might have gone. She was dismissed without reference and I must speak with her.”

“My Lord, I couldn’t…”

Tris stuffed the paper into the man’s jacket pocket and gripped his arms tight. “Tell me, Beta, where is she?”

“B-Bristol...she had told me that she’d a cousin there who might get her upon a ship for the Americas…”

He gave out a few choice curses and then glared at the man. “I was never here, do you understand?”

“Of course, my Lord.”

He was off then and thank goodness he was already well on the way to Bristol for he was able to make it there just before midnight and found an inn which had room for him and his tired horse. He slept for the night and, early as he could in the morning, he was gone to the docks. He had not the time to shave and so he must have looked quite the vagabond, walking about among the sailors and ships and asking the crimps if they should have a record of an Olive Barton.

For the most part, he was ignored and when he wasn’t, he was rejected and it seemed that either no one had record of Olive Barton or no one would tell him if they did. Still, he pressed on, asking nearly everyone who might give him the time.

About noon, his stomach was growling and he was feeling a bit like he’d wasted the morning. Retiring to a nearby tavern, he took his lunch of stew and potatoes and ate it alone, wondering if he might just find that he was far too late. What would he do if she had already taken passage to the Americas? It was likely that she had, he reminded himself, for it was always a good business to take desperate Alphas on as sailors or laborers.

“Excuse me?”

He blinked, startled to find a ragged-looking boy standing nearby to his corner table. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t seen him approach.

“You’re the bloke what’s lookin’ fer Miss Barton?”

“I am, little robin,” he replied. “Will you sit with me and have some lunch?”

He needed no more than this for an invitation and soon he was gulping down his stew and potatoes, his face and hands dirty but his eyes alight with a keen wit. When he was finished, he was practically panting, having not stopped once for breath so desperate was he for nutrients. He looked up at Tris with a renewed sense of purpose. “You was lookin’ for Miss Barton…”

“Yes, do you know of her?”

“I do.” He peered over his empty dishes, his brows tight.

“Do not fret yourself, little robin, I did not bribe you with a meal.” Tris smiled at him, pulling out a small amount of coin. “I will bribe you with this.” The pieces flashed in the lamplight.

He licked his lips. “I know of ‘er. She’s got family here in Bristol.”

“A cousin. Do you know where they live?”

“I do. ‘Is name is Ferrell Barton and ‘e’s a ballast master down yonder fer the _White Line_. I can take you there for another piece…”

“I’d appreciate that. And what about Olive?”

“A ballast heaver for ‘im.”

“So she’s still in Bristol.”

“Sure is, sir,” he replied, his eyes gleaming. “Kindest Alpha I e’er met afore. Is you ‘er lover?”

He coughed out a small laugh and then looked around them, making certain that no one had heard the boy’s crude suggestion. “No, no, hah! Where in the blazes would you get that idea?”

“Oh, only ‘cause she tol’ me stories about ‘er rich lover. Ye’re a fancy bloke an’ ye’ve got an air about ye.”

“An air?”

“A desperate man.”

He leaned forward, a grin spreading on his lips. “Can you keep a secret robin? From all but who I give it to you to tell?”

“Aye...for a price.”

“I’ll give you all the coin in my pocket if you go to Olive Barton and tell her that there’s a man here who’ll hire her on as his valet. It’s a good job, it pays well, and she’ll not want for a single thing in her life. Not one thing. She’ll be happy the rest of her days.”

“But ye’re not ‘er lover? ‘Ow should she be ‘appy wit’ out the love o’ her life?”

“The love of her life is _married to me_.”

The little robin perked up, his eyes glittering with the drama of it all. “Aye sir! Aye! I’ll tell ‘er! You keep yerself right here and I’ll get ‘er for ye!”

“Good boy,” Tris smiled and he leaned back in his seat, rather pleased with how that all went. The wait, of course, was much more arduous than it seemed at first, his thoughts running through all sorts of scenarios in which Olive Barton was far less pleased to see him than he had thought she might have been at the first. After all, he was married to her mate though his mark was not upon her and his pup was not in her belly. When the robin returned, Tris stood from his seat, his mouth opening in a soft gasp as Miss Barton followed him in.

She was tall, feminine, and finely muscled, her hair a brilliant red which had been streaked with strawberry and blonde as she had worked in the sun. It was cropped short and close on the sides, a job that looked to be done by no experienced barber, and her eyes were a deep and intense shade of blue which held within them a familiar melancholy. Her pale cheeks were pink beneath her freckles and she was, on the whole, a bit skinny for an Alpha though Tris imagined he could fix that very well indeed.

He bowed deeply and clasped his hands behind his back. “Miss Barton. It is an honor to have met you. I cannot express my relief at finding you still in England.” He reached into his pocket and dropped all of his coins into the waiting hand of the little beggar, ruffling the boy’s hair in thanks before he left. “I think you’ll have every reason to say yes to my offer.”

She regarded him warily. Her voice was low and dulcet. “You’ve married Vanessa...you’re a proper gent.”

“I am Viscount Griggsby.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Say yes and I’ll hire a coach to explain on the way home. I hardly think it for the ears of any who are present here.”

“You want me as your valet.”

“You have served as such before.”

“Yes…”

“Let me take you to your cousin’s home. I will talk with you in the coach there and if you should turn me down, I will pay you your wages for today and never darken your doorstep again.” He was beginning to feel a little odd, almost like he was talking to a woman who might think him insane. Surely if circumstances in his life were normal, he would have been. She let him hire a hack and when they were both inside together he held his hands together. “Well, I find myself at a bit of a loss for Vanessa is far better suited to explanations than I am, though she could not naturally be here, as I rather had a spontaneous notion of doing this and did not exactly tell her that it was to happen.”

Miss Barton was peering out the window. “Am I being kidnapped?”

“No. I am taking you to your cousin’s house, as that is the address you gave the driver, was it not?”

“It was…”

“Of course, I would much rather take you right to London, but we certainly must pack your things.”

“I have not agreed.”

Tris put his fist to his forehead. “Oh, please do agree. You do love her, still, do you not?”

Barton’s face darkened. “I will love her until the end of days. But you are her husband. She is bound to you and your mark. She will bear you your heirs and I…” Her scent eddied into the tatters of a great love. “I cannot bear to watch such a thing before me…”

“Then do not watch it for it will not happen. At least, not in the way you imagine that it will. Miss Barton...Olive, if I may? I cannot bear an heir.”

Her expression was puzzled and searching.

“I’ve married Vanessa and surely she will give me the next Viscount Griggsby--my legacy--and by all rights they are legitimate. But I will not give her that pup nor any subsequent pups. I am a very odd Alpha and I beg you to understand me. Become my valet. Put a mark on my bride and put my heirs into my house. Fill it with as many children as you wish, they will all have my name, my wealth, and my love. They will never lose you.”

She sat back in her seat, staring at him as though she saw him as a strange phantasm. “This is madness. You cannot be asking me to...to muddy your bloodline…”

He felt the surge in his blood rise. “Does a woman like yourself not have a noble face? Do you not have some vestige of royalty in your line? Surely if you were to look hard enough, you would find a trace of a Scottish King. It matters not, besides. As far as the world is concerned, they are mine and I will fight for them and for you if you’ll come and make my wife the happiest woman in England.”

Olive blinked. “So she’s done it to you, too?”

“Done what?”

“Made you mad for her…it is like she is some beautiful woodland witch. She cannot help it. She could make any Alpha mad for her…”

Tris shook his head, a grin hard on his mouth. “I love her. Yes. But the manner in which I love her is far different than yours. Yours is a passionate affair between lovers whereas I have fallen quite deeply into a very platonic sort--you see, Olive, and please do not hold this against me, I simply do not hold any interest in Omegas.”

There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes. “Ah...you’re _that_ sort.”

“If you think you’re alright with that, I beg you to be loyal to me...to us. Stay with us. Forever.”

The hack stopped just outside of the small home but Olive did not move to debark. “You do not jest, Alpha? I can smell that you are earnest but I have heard that some high born gentlemen have learned to hide their emotions…”

“I could have no other motive for this than to reunite you with the woman who deeply loves you. I have need for a loyal valet and you’ve experience in the position. I know the sort of broken heart she has suffered and I cannot allow it should I have the power to prevent it. Aside...Alpha...it is perhaps not my place to tell you this, but you have already provided me with a potential heir…”

Olive’s scent was suddenly flooded with emotion. “_What?_”

“She’s with child, Olive. Your child.”

It was this that set the woman into motion and she gathered her things quickly. Tristan collected his horse where he had left him at the inn and they made their way back toward London, only stopping for the night when they could stay awake any longer in the darkness. It was the next afternoon when they finally arrived in town and Tristan was feeling the effects of travel upon his body now more prevalent than ever. When Crossford opened the door, he handed off his coat and called out for his wife.

Vanessa, stunning as always, arrived to the foyer with her usual grace only to drop her hands to her sides and stiffen suddenly when she spotted Olive standing beside him. There was a moment of silence in which Tris thought that perhaps they were taking stock of each other though it was probably a mutual bewilderment at the sight. It lasted but a mere second before they were suddenly together, having met in the middle and unable to come apart again, as though a phenomenon of nature were responsible for pulling them in. He stood, awkwardly, while they kissed and embraced and wept soft tears and whispered their hellos with a tenderness that threatened his emotions. Crossford met his eyes, a tentative hopefulness in his expression that Tris certainly shared.

Vanessa was openly weeping, her hands in Olive’s short hair. “_Your hair...your hair...my darling...you hair…_”

Olive’s tears were less pronounced as she placed her forehead to Vanessa’s. “It was your favorite and...I could not stand to look at it anymore for it reminded me everyday of you…”

“_Oh, you great fool…_”

Tris leaned toward Crossford who in turn leaned toward him, their eyes still upon the spectacle. “Perhaps show them to the Duchess Suite and draw Miss Barton a bath, would you? Oh and...I believe there’s some champagne in the pantry...bring them up a bottle and share a few among the staff, would you?”

“Of course, my Lord. Thank you.”

He nodded lightly, making his way into the empty parlor to lay down upon the davenport, his legs dangling from the edge. He snoozed there for a little while until he felt a presence in the room and when he opened his eyes again, he saw Vanessa beside him. When he sat up, she lowered herself down to sit next to him and wordlessly, she embraced him, tucking her head against his shoulder while her scent enveloped him in its contented sweetness. Her voice was soft and husky from her weeping.

“Will you be so proud that you will not let me help you, Alpha? There is love in this world for you...”

His heart, after days of purpose and distraction, ached again with this reminder. “You cannot help me, Omega. I am...beyond any aid. You should go to her. She has missed you greatly and I know you have yearned for her.”

She took his hand, squeezing his fingers against her palm. “You are truly going to make me think of you alone in your bed?”

He sniffed out a pained little laugh. “No. I think I...I think I will find myself elsewhere this evening. Do not think of me. Place all your thoughts upon her. She is your mate, after all.” He smiled at her, a trenchant sadness pulling at the corners of his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss upon her forehead and sent her away from him before he got up and prepared himself to leave. 

It was early evening and the stars were just beginning to gleam through the purple haze which seeped into the red of sunset as Tris pulled open the door to Blakely’s. Love was not something that could be sustained in Tris’ life, that was certain. But love wasn’t what he sought tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ["I Need a Hero" plays softly in the background]


	14. Chapter 14

It was early evening and Mort was standing in the garden, staring at the stars which were just beginning to peek through the dusk with his hands clasped behind his back. A coach had approached the house and he’d not even looked toward it, sure that it could be no one looking for him. How naive, he thought of himself, when he was joined by a quiet little presence and a familiar sweet scent.

“Good evening, Hudsward.”

“Good evening, Mr. Stone.” He stood with him, quietly examining the stars as well, a comfort and a solidity that had been missing ever since Mort had come to London without him. Perhaps Tris had been right. Perhaps Hudsward would have made a very fine mate indeed. The thought had his heart in his throat and he couldn’t think of how he might move on from here. Fortunately, Hudsward was not content with silence for too long. It was a habit formed perhaps from learning just how detrimental it was for the Beta to stew for overly long. “I’ve brought you some lemon cakes.”

He could hardly respond, his lips tight. “Thank you, Hudsward.”

“I have also eavesdropped.”

Mort peered at him, the Omega still staring appreciatively at the stars, his admission clinging to Mort’s ears and begging questions. “Excuse me?”

“Eavesdropping. It is something we under the stairs happen to do from time to time. Especially when it behooves our master to do so. Usually I am not so forthright about it but this time, there really is no helping it. I cannot somehow admit something to you with a time constraint in a more discreet manner and so this confession is what I have and what I am willing to offer.”

Mort swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat. “What the devil are you about to tell me?”

The Omega blinked, looking up at him as though he were only now weighing what he might say. “I have been told in my brief stay here that you have chosen to allow Lord Griggsby his strange, farcical marriage.”

“What else can I do?” He felt a fair bit of impotent rage light in his stomach. “He is beyond my reach.”

“I think you’re being stupid.”

He took in a hard breath, studying Hudsward’s calm demeanor and blank expression. “What?”

“Are you not consumed by jealousy?”

He drew up, uncertain.

“The specter of this woman, this Omega...you’ve seen her, been haunted by her like a ghost in the parlor. You treat her as though she has more right to your own mate than you do and that there is nothing you can do to challenge her or subvert her. Where is your true Beta nature? Where is the fight in you I know there is?” His cheeks colored high as he began to get animated. “You are such a passionate and demanding mate and yet you cannot fight a fragile girl for your love? She is no challenge to you, Mr. Stone. But perhaps that is your problem. That you should feel guilty for having harmed her for she is so much smaller and slighter than you are. Well damn you, Mr. Stone. How about this?” He was glaring now, his vehemence surprising, “Your mate is at Blakely’s right now. Your challenge is _not_ a slight little Omega girl. Your challenge and your rivals are _still men_. Men who would see your mark upon your mate and mock it!”

All at once, Mort’s world seemed to crash down around him, a sudden rushing in his ears the realization of what a damned fool he’d been. His scent soured around him and he couldn’t help his wide-eyed and dumbfounded stare at his little housekeeper.

Hudsward stamped his little foot, his face mottled with his anger. “Well?! What are you doing still standing here?!”

It was this that prompted him to action, his feet moving quickly as he rushed into the house and demanded a horse. He was too boisterous, it seemed, as he pulled on his coat and was handed his hat, for his host arrived in the foyer with a frown upon his face.

“Mort? What are you doing?”

“Did you know?” he asked loudly, whirling about upon Halwill and begging him to answer. “_Did you know he was there!?_”

Halwill gripped Mort by his shoulders, holding him still even as he vibrated with fury. “I only just discovered, myself. Are you to be the greatest of fools and get yourself killed because of it?”

“_I am going to get him! I cannot abide this! I cannot!_” He was pulling against Halwill’s grip, desperate to break free. Should the Alpha choose to lock him away instead, he would spend his night trying to break down the door. “You cannot stop me, Halwill! You cannot stop me! I have told him before that I could not fathom allowing another man to touch him and _I will not!_”

The Alpha’s ice blue eyes were grave. “Do you realize what you’re saying, Mort? Do you recognize that in going there, you will be staking your claim again? You cannot leave him once you have walked across that threshold. This is the moment you choose!” He shook him slightly to emphasize his words, his voice low and dangerous. “_This is when you decide who you are, Mort Stone. Are you his mate or are you not?_”

He wanted to hit the man for even suggesting that he was not Tristan Blackwell’s mate but he was halted by the man’s tight grip on his arms and he thought, steadily, for a moment. “I am his mate. I am his only mate. There is no one in this world who will ever hold that distinction again. _Damn society! Damn the law!_”

“Then I am going with you. You don’t even know where the place is and I’ve no doubt you’re going to get yourself thrown out or worse without me.”

Let go, he adjusted to the addition of his co-conspirator quickly, barking out that he needed another horse. He felt himself bolstered greatly by the presence of Halwill and let the Alpha lead him to Blakely’s, shocked to find it so rather plain-looking on the outside. It was nothing like he imagined--a gambling hell filled with debauchery and sin. It was understated and quiet, set back a bit from the road with high hedges for privacy, its facade neat and stately and even, dare he think it, intimidating.

“Don’t lose your nerve now, Beta,” Halwill told him as they dismounted, evidently smelling something in Mort’s scent that would betray him.

“Never,” Mort replied, his resolve even stronger than ever when he tapped up the steps. The door was opened just a smidgen by a pensive-looking Alpha in plain livery and Mort could feel Halwill at his back.

“Your business, sirs?”

“I’m here to collect my mate. I know that he is here so you need not lie to me. Let me in.”

He could see right away that the man’s eyes dulled and his scent closed off. “Our continued survival here depends upon a unique discretion. I apologize, but I cannot admit you. Good evening, sirs.”

Halwill’s hand thudded upon the door before it could close. “You misunderstand, good sir,” the Alpha told him. “My friend here will be taking his mate home. It is up to you whether or not this is in a loud or a discreet manner. Should you close the door now, it will be in a fashion as loud as possible.”

Before the man could retort--and surely he did intend to, as he had leaned forward with his eyes alight--Mort shoved the door, clipping him upon his shoulder and pushing past him. He tossed his hat to the floor and stomped in his coat up the stairs, ignoring the plea from the Alpha still engaged with Halwill. He would not stop. He _could not_. He was a man enraged and with clear purpose. His nose searched, filtering through the scents, old and new. Those imprinted into the wood and those that still hung in the air like heavy curtains he waded through. He was searching, lingering at every chamber door and more and more irate when he did not find the scent he sought.

He stormed through the hall and when Alphas opened the door to see who was stomping loudly across the boards, he pushed by them, not allowing them to hinder him even as they murmured their soft questions behind him.

_A Beta? Who is he? What’s he doing here? A lover? A father? A mate?_

His nose finally found it. Hidden among the weeds of all the other scents whirling about, burning and strange like a smokey wildfire, taunting his stomach until he was queasy. This one was gentle and warming. This one was familiar and cloying. This one was his bondmate and he knew it like he knew his own flesh.

Without waiting for Halwill to join him, he reached for the handle on the door and tried to push it open, find it to be locked. Examining it, he found it to be of a sturdy wood and so he pounded upon it with the side of his fist, the boom of his hand resonating throughout the inner chamber.

“_Tristan!_” he cried, his voice loud in the hall, drawing more Alphas to cautiously crack open their rooms. “_Tristan, please! It’s me! Please open the door!_” He pounded again over it, yelling even louder, his forehead against the wood. “_Tristan! I love you! God, I love you! Please don’t let him touch you! Gods, Alpha, I swear I will break down this fucking door!_” He kicked at it, the heavy wood rattling in its place against the brass lock. Panic set in when he saw two Alpha footmen coming up the stairs down the hall, their clear intent to remove him. He kicked one last time. “_Tristan! Do not let me go! Please…_” his voice lowered as he sank to his knees upon the rug. “_I love you…I love you as the sun shines...a love of such blinding that it can only be peered upon as a reflection of itself in the moon of your eyes...gods do I love you…_”

He was hardly prepared for when the door opened suddenly and the flushed face of a young Alpha met him from above. He bowed suddenly in greeting, his clothes rumpled and his cravat held tight in his hand. “Pardon me, sir. Pardon. I’m sorry! Best of...best of luck!” He picked his way around Mort before the Beta could respond and hurried down the hall, avoiding the two Alphas were were headed his way.

Mort, thinking quickly, dove into the room, slamming the door shut behind him, struggling with the strength of one of the Alphas on the other side before he managed to twist the key in the lock. With the Alphas secured on the other side, he turned about again to find Tris standing, his shoulders slumped and his expression that of a scolded dog. His cravat was on the floor with his waistcoat, his shirt mostly open, exposing a great amount of his chest which Mort could see in the low lamplight was covered in nipping fresh love-bites. He came to his mate, reaching out to him but not courageous enough to touch him just yet.

“Tris…”

The Alpha met his gaze, his eyes wet and the hurt in them all too apparent, his vulnerability exposed in a gruesome vivisection of emotion like veins revealed by the peeling back of living flesh. He smelled heavily of liquor and another Alpha, his eyes dulled by drink.

“I love you, Tris. Nothing can change it. I thought I might leave you be for the sake of your marriage but if you are to come here, then surely the sanctity of such a bond does not hold weight in your heart...”

Tris reached out to him, meeting his hand where it was held in the air, linking their fingertips. “I did not want you hurt. My mother...she knows that it was you…”

“To the devil with your mother,” Mort replied, moving to hold Tris’s hand more fully. “I will never let you go. I will never give you up. I could never let any man hold you but myself.”

Tris’ soft smile was sad, tears spilling over his cheeks. “And a woman? You would let a woman hold me?”

He took a steadying breath. “It seemed...different.”

“I did not consummate my marriage.”

“Tris…”

“I did not. I could not. In fact, I could not bring myself to do much here tonight either. I cannot erase you. My body has its own memory. It craves you. My instinct knows I have betrayed it when I let another touch me. I could not deny you now, Mort, and I’ve been such a fool to try.”

“I as well,” he confessed, moving into Tris’ grasp, holding him tight as he was similarly embraced. “I have been so misguided to ever think I could leave you...how dare I! How dare I do it to you and myself…” He breathed in his mate’s tumultuous scent. “Could you ever find it in you to forgive me, Tris? I have been so stupid and I have burdened our friends. Oh hell...let’s get out of here. I’ll take you to my home here in town. I’ve...I’ve not been staying there so it is rather quiet.”

Tris’ arms tightened around him and he felt the man nod against his head, a shuddering sob his only reply.

A warmth spread through him and he broke away to lean over to pick up Tris’ cravat, bringing it to his nose so that he might ward off the stink of the other Alpha who’d been in the room with him. “I suppose we might get you dressed.”

“Yes…”

It took them only moments to get Tris acceptable and when Mort opened the door again, he was faced with several curious Alphas, their scents a cacophony of emotions. Mort spied a particularly young boy who peered at him with great interest before his attention was caught by a smarmy-looking gentleman in the middle of the hall.

“Ah. There’s the scoundrel who’s caused us all this upset. And a _Beta_, of all things.” The disdain in his voice was clear and his sly gray eyes were narrowed with his apparent irritation. “You’ve caused a bit of a stir here, Griggsby, with your little dog here yapping at your heels. How are we all to feel secure with your cast-offs running amok and giving us all a scare? I daresay you might find yourself without safe harbor here for this little stunt.”

Mort drew up to his full height, still having to peer upward at the officious Alpha. With a severe expression plastered onto his face, he regarded the man coldly. “You seem familiar, Alpha. Have we met?”

“It is possible we have, I do not recall.”

Tris cleared his throat, his scent odd and stiff. “Mortimer...this is Lord Saines…”

“Ah, then I believe I owe you something, my Lord, for I am greatly in your debt.”

To this, the Alpha passed a sickening half-grin toward Tris and it was this expression that was the last Mort would see of his face before the Beta’s fist had met it. He was hit so hard that a spray of dark blood colored the wallpaper beside him and he lost his footing, stumbling to the side of the hall among the feet of the other curious men about them. As a collective gasp arose from the small crowd, Mort shook his aching hand and then straightened his coat in a very English manner, peering behind him to Tris. “Well. That debt is settled, isn’t it? Come along, mate. I think perhaps we might have worn out our welcome in a place like this.”

Still, as they left, they were not accosted at all by the footmen and in fact, Mort thought, it was almost as though there was something of a strange air about those who watched them leave. As though some of them, perhaps, had very much wished to do the same to the pompous bell-end.

Halwill was standing beside his horse as the pair emerged and he appeared tousled but unharmed in his relief. He regarded Tris warily, giving him a timid smile. “Dear friend, please do not judge me for not having told you of my knowledge of you.”

Tris’ face, in the light of the lamps around them was flushed. “I...I suppose it must have been Georgette…”

“Do not blame her, I beg. I am her husband, after all. She knew what my reaction would be and that is of utter indifference. I could not regard you less of my friend for something so harmless.”

Tris, on the verge of tears yet again this night, drunkenly stumbled forward to embrace his friend. He was, then, gathered up on the back of Halwill’s horse and they rode to Mort’s townhouse. They sent for Hudsward immediately and were installed in the parlor where Halwill again reassured Tris of his constant loyalty. He stayed, distracting them with the amusing little tale of how he had come to know of Tris’ proclivities until Hudsward arrived at which point he gave Tris another long and teary Alpha hug before he departed.

Mort, tired already from the action of the evening, waited until his Omega housekeeper had finished fussing over them before he took his seat on the davenport directly next to his mate. He sidled as close to him as he could until their thighs touched and then, comically, he let his head rest on the side of Tris’ arm.

“Are you making a pass at me, Mort Stone?”

He chuckled. “No...that is tomorrow morning when I wake with you naked in my arms. Right now, I think I’d like to sleep for a while. Perhaps with a little bag of ice chips on my hand.”

“Oh dear,” the Alpha muttered, taking Mort’s hand to examine his knuckles. “It does look sore but at least you did not cut yourself…”

“I hit him right in the nose. Phillip taught me that. My brother.”

“Well, thank you to Phillip. And...Mort…” He pressed against the Beta’s fingers, drawing his eyes. His voice was soft and low as he leaned forward. “Thank you. For...coming for me. For loving me. Blindingly.”

He didn’t bother responding with words, perfectly certain his mouth could do the job without them, his tender kiss the only reply necessary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mort is not fucking around.
> 
> Like this chapter? Leave a comment! :D We only have two more chapters to go, I think, before we're gonna start posting a different project.


	15. Chapter 15

Tris had never before felt so conflicted. Surely things could not be so easy. He could not simply have Mort Stone back in his life after all that? The terror and the pain of being so alone and so _without_ didn’t simply wash away. His mother was still in London. She was still this strange and menacing specter who haunted him and his perfect fairytale. But laying here in the soft morning light with Mort sleeping soundly in his arms, he couldn’t help but allow the elation to flood him. He was back where he belonged and he thought that perhaps he could even feel the gentle sting and reminder of where his mate’s teeth had sunk into his flesh. _Mortimer Stone_ was with him and had come for him last night when he’d heard of Tris’ desperation.

_He could not allow a man to touch me…_ His arms tightened around his mate and tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He could not be so deserving of a man like this. He could not possibly have done enough good in his life to be rewarded so by the angels.

“Hmm,” Mort sighed against him as he came awake. The Beta was so handsome in the morning, his eyes slightly puffy from rest and his face covered in a slight growth which scratched against Tris’ chest pleasantly as he shifted. “Good morning, Alpha.”

“Good morning…”

“Mm, you’re looking like you’ve already got something to fret about. That is so very typical for you. Perhaps I should give you something else to worry about.”

Tris sighed through his nose. “I’ve plenty to worry about already. I don’t need--”

“Oh you need what I’ve got for you,” Mort countered quickly, rubbing his scruffy cheek over Tris’ throat before he mouthed him there, careful not to create too much suction so as not to leave a bruise. “I think I might like for you to worry over how you might please me with your mouth…”

Tris pondered him for a moment, staring into his dark hazel eyes and studying his sleepy little male grin. He was so ridiculously handsome, it was difficult to have a thought otherwise. “You are a menace.”

Mort laughed, dipping his head to kiss at Tris’ cheeks and jawline. “I have spent weeks without you, mate. I cannot tell you how difficult it has been for me. I knew that your marriage had been forced but I could not bring myself to burst into your life when I thought that I would ruin things for a quiet girl who’d no choice in the matter. What if she hoped for love with you? What if things would have been all bungled up for my interference?”

“I think things were very much bungled up without you even having to show your face. Though...you will like Vanessa.”

“We’ve met.”

“Right.” He swallowed thickly. “She really is a dear.”

Mort kissed his throat again, nibbling him with his teeth and sending blood rushing down to his groin. “I don’t want to talk about your wife, pretty as she is.” He shifted a leg over Tristan’s thighs, rubbing his very clearly stiff member against the Alpha’s hip. “I want to talk about how I’m going to hold you down, Alpha. I’ve already asserted my dominance over my rival and I’d like to enjoy the spoils.”

“Your rival?”

“Lord Saines.”

“Oh yes.” Tris stared at the ceiling, his mouth ticking up at the edges at the memory of last night. It was a little hazy from drink, but he clearly remembered the Alpha having been sent crumbling to the floor by Mort’s blow. “How extraordinary. You must have hit him very hard.”

“He was not expecting it. One doesn’t not have to use the whole of their strength if their opponent is clearly smug. Though...I did, admittedly, hit him _very _hard.” He smiled against Tris’ flesh before he rubbed a hand over the Alpha’s chest to pinch at his nipple. “I could not let him think he had any say over your fate. I could hardly contain my rage over knowing that he’s touched you in the past...been inside you. I’ve never felt so possessive in my life. God, I love you, Tris. Should I have gone back in time and met you as a boy, I cannot say I would not have been utterly obsessed with you should you have shown any interest in me. Perhaps I could have become just as much a lecher as Lord Saines.”

“Mmm,” he replied, unable to find words for the pleasure that had stemmed from Mort’s fingers rolling and pinching at his nipples. “Beta…”

He replaced those teasing fingers with his lips, suckling until broken shards of sounds were tumbling from Tris’s throat. Mort fully straddled him then and kissed his way up until he could shimmy so that his thighs were on either side of the Alpha’s shoulders, his proud cock jutting up and bobbing over Tris’ face.

“I suppose…” Tris mused with a grin, “that you might want me to help you with that.”

Mort’s voice was dark and husky with lust. “I want you to show me how much you missed me.”

“Are you going to come down my throat?”

“If you can manage it.”

Tris’ inner Alpha surged at the challenge and he reached up, guiding his mate down toward his lips to lick and suck at the head of him, passing his probing tongue over the bottom edge of him to pull out shuddering breaths from his mate. He was very good at this and he was proud of his abilities. He covered his teeth with his tongue and his upper lip before he swallowed the Beta down, urging him with hands upon his hips, guiding Mort so that he might not accidentally choke him.

“_Oh…_” Mort groaned, allowing Tris to move him so that he was very gently thrusting in and out of the Alpha’s mouth, the tip of him worked by the tight wet heat of his mate’s throat as he sank deep inside. “_Alpha...please…_”

Tris sucked him, stroked him, and loved him as he had been taught for many years with Alpha cocks twice the size. He very much enjoyed the weight of Mort in his mouth and in his hands. He was large enough that he pressed against the back of Tris’ throat and certainly big enough that he would cause the Alpha’s voice to be raspy after, but he was not so large as to hurt him when Tris forced the whole of his manhood down his throat, nuzzling his nose into the musky curls at Mort’s groin. Everything about this was to be savored. He loved the feel of his mate’s hips in his hands and the pleasured twitches of his member in his mouth.

_Come for me, Beta,_ he thought, hoping that perhaps he might relay the thought to his lover by will alone. He backed off a few times, rubbing his tongue over the head of him, relishing how the man’s hands came to his hair, encouraging him in such a gentle manner which certainly fit a man like Mort. As domineering as he could be, he could not hide the inherent gentleness to his touch.

“_Ahn...Alpha…_”

He was trembling and close, Tris thought, but he was shocked to find that Mort was slowly pulling away, shushing him when he sought to keep him there and instead turning about so that he could place his own mouth upon Tris.

“_Mmmgh!_”

Mort was licking at him, the heat of his mouth incredible against the velvet flesh of Tris’ manhood. He had missed this so much. He had fantasized about this. There was so much he had longed for but surely had longed for this the most--the feel of his lover’s lips and tongue over his warm and craving shaft. He spread his thighs, reaching up to position Mort better so that he could lift up his head. The man was not sized properly for him to take him into his mouth again but he was close enough so that he could kiss and tease at his rump.

The Beta made a strangled sound, flinching when Tris’ tongue fluttered up to his opening.

“Oh?” Tris tried--his voice indeed raspy--ignoring the heat of pleasure from Mort’s mouth over him. “Do you like that, Beta? Was that a sound of approval or disapproval?”

Mort didn’t respond so he did it again, pleased to find that the man was easing back toward his mouth, urging him to bestow more kisses over that sensitive part of him. Tris, content to do just that, sought a pillow for beneath his head so that he might make it easier on his neck. When he was comfortable, he pulled Mort so that he could easily suck at him, opening him with his thumbs and skimming the flat of his tongue over that pink little place that enticed and teased by its very existence.

Mort could only really get a few inches of Tris down his throat, as Tris was _rather large_ for an Alpha but the effect was still the same. He teased and dipped and sucked, toying with the extra flesh between his lips and rubbing what he could not fit in his mouth with gentle strokes of his hands. He used his fingers when his jaw was tired and made certain to hum liberally when something Tris did excited him.

It was during this particularly lewd event that Tris noticed the door very quietly open. He paused for just a moment, his heart jumping a bit before he realized suddenly that it was Hudsward who entered, the little Omega glancing up and having to double-take before he froze at the sight of his master engaging in such a brazen act. Tris recognized that in his hand was a glass bottle of lubricant and he gently shifted his thigh upward so that Mort would not catch sight of the silent little Omega. He made eye contact with the man and, with one careful hand, motioned for him to set the bottle down upon the vanity which he did before he gave a short bow and left, his flush from his hair to his toes.

Once Hudsward was gone and Tris was reveling in his Alpha pride--and of course the adrenaline from having been ‘caught’ by someone--he lowered his thigh again and began to sweetly place open-mouthed kisses over Mort’s sack and the soft flesh of his inner thighs.

“_Mmm_,” the Beta groaned around Tris’ length, pulling up to smile. “That tickles.”

“Does it now?”

“Yes, damn you.”

Tris pressed a thumb against Mort’s opening and his ears pricked up at the sound of the man’s hitching breath.

Mort was grinning. He could hear it in his voice. “Are you going to be a naughty boy?”

“Perhaps I have always been a naughty boy. I’ve told you that I was…”

“Oh no...I think you’re far better off being my very good boy.” Mort’s hand was around him, squeezing him rhythmically but not stroking. “Don’t you agree?”

He heard the older Beta gasp when he pressed hard enough to breach him with just the tip of his thumb. “Hmm...I’m not certain that I do.”

“Oh, you are simply itching to be punished, aren’t you? My gentleness isn’t enough? Perhaps I will bite you again…”

Tris backed off, rubbing up and down the backs of Mort’s thighs placatingly. “Oh, I have missed you so much… Why not punish me? It seems that Hudsward left us a gift sometime last night over by the door. You might take me, Beta, like you’ve taken me before. I’d like to be yours this morning...to feel you dripping out of me. I know for certain that there were plenty of gentlemen last night quite jealous of me for having you barge in to my rescue...they would be so very covetous to see your spend inside me...marking me…”

Mort raised his head, frowning at the bottle before he rolled off the bed to fetch it. From this distance, Tris was very pleased to admire the whole of the Beta’s form.

“I did miss all of this fur…” the Alpha mused. “Though I did not consummate my marriage, I did spend some nights with Vanessa and though she is very soft, she certainly does not have anything that enthralls me.”

Mort brought the lubricant back to the bed and gave pause for a moment at the edge, his free hand rubbing absently over his lower stomach where his hair tapered down and flooded out to cushion his jutting member. “You certainly do know what to say to me.”

“Come up here and push my legs open.”

His lover raised a brow. “Who is the one giving orders here?”

“Apparently it is your very good boy.”

He had thought himself very sufficiently aroused and yet he felt himself getting even harder when Mort leaped upon the bed and prowled over him like a wild tiger, climbing up his body until he was ravenously nibbling at his throat and jaw, toying with his ear until he could whisper his commands.

“_Open your legs for me. Do not make me open them for you._”

He did, working to bring the Beta between them. Mort coated his fingers in lubricant and slid them down over him, teasing in and out just for play before he pressed inside, his scent betraying his absolute joy in Tris’ body.

“_Oh...Alpha...you are so sublime._” His words shuddered in his mouth, half-formed and feral. “_Poems could be written for how sweetly your body embraces me._”

Tris wrapped his legs about Mort’s hips to encourage him and arched his back while turning his head to expose his throat--the ultimate submission to a mate. It was not lost upon the Beta who bent over him, his teeth hard against Tris’ throat but not hard enough to break the flesh there. He held him with his mouth like this while he began his brutal, pounding pace of thrusts. Each blow inside him compounded his pleasure and he knew he was giving out loud mewls of ecstasy, his hands grasping at Mort’s hair and back as his coherent mind was subtly destroyed in this rhythmic and sensual performance.

His peak crashed over him, sending him into hard throes of rapture, the sound he made more like the bray of a rutting stag than anything remotely human. He did not feel Mort’s seed inside him until the Beta had pulled out, letting his come dribble over the sheets while they panted and twitched together in the aftermath.

Mort heaved beside him, real and true in the morning light, the sweat in his chest hair glimmering while he caught his breath. “_Hunh...hunh...you are such a good boy…_”

“Truly, sir?” His throat was raw and his voice weak.

“_Oh yes._” He swallowed, rolling over and leaning his head over Tris’ body, letting his tongue sweep over the thick ropes of Alpha spend on his belly. He pulled each sweep into his mouth easily, swallowing everything as though to savor it and leaving a small kiss next to the dip of his belly button in the middle of the cooling damp he had made. He lifted Tris’ softening cock and slid the tip of his tongue over the slit of him, causing a deep shiver to course through his body. “You are a marvelous creature, Alpha.”

“I am nothing compared to you.” He could feel the place where the Beta’s teeth had made their imprint over his throat, stinging still.

“Perish the thought...though I do wish we could spend the whole of the day together, I suppose you must return to your wife…she might be anxious as to your whereabouts.”

Tris rolled and pinned the man beneath him, laying on top of him heavily. “I thought you did not wish to talk about my wife.”

“Not when we are engaged in...well…”

“What you are telling me is that you do not think her a suitable bed partner in conversation or otherwise.”

“Exactly.”

“Well...I’d like you to meet her. Genuinely meet her.” Tris leaned down and kissed at Mort’s face. “I’d like to meet Olive as well.”

“Olive?”

“Vanessa’s mate. My new valet, incidentally.”

“Incidentally?” His brows popped up.

“Alright. Not incidentally. Very much on purpose. I did not think myself inclined to keep a woman from true love for the sake of some sham marriage.”

Mort was smiling and shaking his head. “That is so like you to save everyone else but keep martyrdom for yourself.”

“Says the man who stayed away from me for the sake of some strange girl’s feelings.”

They laughed together over their mutual foolishness before they got up and, despite a fair amount of distraction and lurid touches and words, got themselves dressed. When they were downstairs, the little Omega housekeeper was professional and fairly stoic as he called for the horses to be readied and brought around. His only reaction to Tris’ cheeky little wink was a barely perceptible narrowing of his eyes behind his spectacles.

Of course, when they arrived at Tris’ town home, Mort smelled very much like him and he was feeling no small amount of pride at having come back with his “catch” despite that it was fairly clear that it was the Beta who had done all the work last night. When Olive met him, she was looking very smart in her livery, her short hair swept back and a satisfied smile planted right on her face as she greeted him, bowing to he and Mort.

“Good morning, sirs. My Lord, your wife is in the morning room with some breakfast, would you both wish to join her?”

“Oh Olive, it’s grand to see you this morning, you look well. I’d like you meet my mate, this is Mortimer Stone. Mort, this is Olive, she’s Vanessa’s.”

She bowed to Mort directly, “It is lovely to meet you, Mr. Stone.”

Mort was apparently struck dumb by the thought of being introduced thusly, his mouth open and his expression amused.

Tris saved him the trouble of response. “I believe we will take breakfast with Lady Griggsby, if you don’t mind our doing so, Olive.”

“Absolutely, sir. I will bring you some options there, then, and should I trust that her Ladyship is correct when she stressed that you like your coffee strong, sir?”

“She does know me surprisingly well. You are free to trust her when it comes to my tastes.” He grinned and Olive grinned back at him before she led them to the morning room and then departed to fetch them some breakfast. Vanessa was sitting near the window, peering out toward the street. Her soft brown eyes were drawn to them as they entered and she stood, curiously staring at Mort who gave her a stiff bow as greeting.

“Mr. Stone...it is so lovely to see you again.”

“Yes…” he sighed. “I apologize for my coldness before. It seems that we meet again under vastly differing circumstances.”

Vanessa’s smile was wide. “I was hoping that you both might come to your senses. After all, Georgette and I have really outdone ourselves when it comes to you two so you might as well put in some of the heavy lifting.”

Tris felt his brows come together. “What do you mean?”

She covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. “Only that we have been circulating the most vicious of rumors.” Olive returned with a maid who set out their breakfasts on a tray and Vanessa waited until the maid was gone and Olive remained, standing next to the settee in which the Omega sat. “Your mother, you know. Very sad state of affairs. It seems that according to some very credible sources, she’s been acting rather strange recently. She’s been accusing folks of some very incredible things and I daresay she’s been making quite the list of enemies.”

Tris’ amusement bled into his voice. “You little skunk.”

“Oh, I am terrible. At any rate, his Grace, Lord Asterly--”

“Asterly?”

“Oh? Mhm. Well. When it made the rounds that your mother was accusing Lord Halwill of some rather dastardly things, his Grace came to his defense...which has, of course, rendered your mother entirely without credibility. And there you have it.” She raised her hands to simulate a shrug and then placed them delicately in her lap again. “It has come to my attention that London is just rife with all sorts of ridiculous gossip and notions. Your mother has sent me a small missive stating that she intends upon spending a few months with Lady Hesterton in the countryside which gives us plenty of reason to go back to the country estate and perhaps rip out the wallpaper there.” She sipped at her morning tea. “I heard you live quite close to there, Mr. Stone. Have you any inclination toward ripping out wallpaper?”

Mort cleared his throat decisively. “Why...I believe I could find that very invigorating, my Lady. A fine notion indeed.”

Tris couldn’t help his beaming smile. For all the pieces of his heart he’d thought he’d lost when it shattered, Vanessa had gone and picked them all up again. A daring, brutal wife, he thought. _The best in the world_. He looked upon Mort and felt the golden glow of affection blossom once again. He could scarce breathe. “Mort...isn’t she just lovely?”

The Beta looked back at him, his eyes wet. “Divinity herself.”

Vanessa scoffed. “Hardly so. I am merely in the right place at the right time with the perfect Alpha. So. Let us all come to an agreement. We are all partners. All four of us. We will never let each other down and we will always seek to protect.”

Tris raised his cup of coffee. “Here, here.”

Mort nodded diplomatically. “Of course, my Lady. Our futures depend upon it.”

The Omega smiled, her scent fluffed and welcoming. “Marvelous. Oh, I do adore you both. I can’t wait to truly know you, Mr. Stone. I know I am simply going to fall in love with you.”

Tris frowned. “Oh no you don’t.”

Olive appeared similarly vexed, catching Tris’ eye. “We’d best be careful, my Lord. Else we might find ourselves on the outs!”

A sprinkle of laughter bubbled through the lot of them and Tris reached for Mort’s hand, pulling it onto his thigh as he peered at his mate. “Well, Mort? How is this for you? Might we do our best from now on? Better than we have been?”

Mort’s smile was devastating. “Yes, Tris. I think we shall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash your hands. Don't touch your face. Everything is going to be ok.


	16. Epilogue

Mort Stone discovered, through many months of pure and incandescent happiness, that Vanessa Blackwell--Viscountess Griggsby--was by far the most formidable woman he had ever met in his life. Every venture was given her complete and utter devotion and she approached everything with a shrewdness that his brother Phillip would have envied. She was like a ball of teeming fire and she worked tirelessly to keep herself with her chin high and her spirits light. Even when she was like this--exhausted and anxious, forbidden to rest by her body’s insistence.

“Mort…” she breathed as she held his hand close to her mouth, her hair damp with sweat and her cheeks glimmering with the trails of her tears. Another contraction hit her and the midwife was still muttering words of encouragement. An older woman in her sixties, Miss Farhorn had delivered hundreds of her pups in her life and her brows were tight together. “What…”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he tried, his heart in his throat. “You’re doing a lovely job…”

“There’s something wrong...isn’t there?” Her dark brown eyes were clear and sharp and implored him savagely.

Mort lifted his eyes to Miss Farhorn and she peered back at him for a moment, her blue eyes expressive as she nodded slightly for him to tell her.

“It’s nothing your midwife has never seen before. You’re in the right place with the right woman.” He swallowed as she scoured him with her eyes. “Your pup hasn’t turned.”

Vanessa closed her eyes, letting her head fall back among the pillows. “Thank god Tris isn’t here.” She tightened her fingers around Mort’s hand. “And thank god you are...your scent is so...so calming…”

He could feel the hard pound of his heart and the gentle squeeze that followed.

Miss Farhorn put her hands on Vanessa’s distended stomach, pushing hard in places. “Alright, dearie. I’ve got a good idea of how your pup is situated. We’re not looking at anything terribly unfortunate but we must still be very careful. When I tell you to bear down, you will bear down as hard as you can. We will do so in time with your contractions and this pup is going to come quickly, do you understand?”

Vanessa took a deep breath, her hard resolve manifesting in her eyes. “Yes. Mort...do not let go of my hand.”

“I’m here.” He readjusted his grip so that she could squeeze him should she need to. He was not sure how much he regretted this though he went through several stages of it as the birth commenced. There were a few times he was forced to quit his words of encouragement for the horrid pain she produced in him and he even thought at some moments that he was never going to be able to write again. Surely she’d broken at least _one_ bone in his hand.

Miss Farhorn was heaven-sent. She was calm and firm in all of her instructions, she made certain that at all times, her hands were clean and there was fresh water available not only for washing but for Vanessa to drink. Despite all the strain of a difficult birth, she was ever-optimistic and it clearly heartened Vanessa and kept her fight even as she was exhausted by the whole endeavor.

Still, it was quicker objectively than Mort thought it was. What had seemed to be hours of having his hand crushed in a vice turned out to be under an hour. Vanessa had screamed very little though her voice was hoarse even still after the pup was fully born.

“_Are they alright? Are they alive?_”

Miss Farhorn put her face to the babe’s nose and spat off to the side, rubbing the pup’s back until a gentle cry sounded into the air.

Vanessa’s head fell back down to her pillows. “_Oh thank god…_”

Mort raised her hand up and kissed at her fingers. “What did you expect? You never do anything without knowing that the outcome is certain, do you?”

Vanessa laughed weakly. “This may have been a first for me.”

He smiled down at her, marveling wholly at how much he had doubted Tris when he had told him that he would fall in love with Vanessa. The wife. He thought that right now that he could not be more terrified for another person--even when Tristan had been effectively kidnapped by his own mother and forcibly married, he had not had this terror held deep in his heart and though he had hid it for Vanessa’s sake, he let the relief pour out of him now, flooding his scent and his eyes.

“Mortimer…”

“Do not comfort me,” he told her through his tears. “You are such a saint and not at all enough appreciated.”

She stared up at him warmly, her eyes heavily-lidded while Miss Farhorn cleaned off her pup and wrapped her up in cloth specifically for swaddling. She handed her off to Vanessa who held her in wonderment, her scent spiked with love and adoration--as any mother’s scent would smell, Mort assumed. After a few moments, when the pup had settled for the most part, the Omega looked up at him.

“Should you like to hold her, Mort?”

“Me?”

“Yes. Of course, you. You’ve been here the whole time...it would be a shame should you not get to cherish her first.” Without waiting for his reply, she handed the pup off to him. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Oh yes,” Mort breathed, taking the small babe into his arms, fascinated by how little she weighed. “She is so pink…”

Farhorn interjected. “Perfectly so! I daresay she’s not suffered for her predicament. In just a few minutes, I’ll have you all ready to see his Lordship.” She frowned at nothing, her head nodding just a little bit as she did so.

“Oh Mort...Tristan will be so happy to see her…” She sighed, her face screwing up a bit while the midwife motioned for her to breathe again while she helped her deliver the afterbirth. “Oh...this feels very different...nothing like a pup at all…”

“Do you need my hand again, sweetheart?”

“No...I do not think so. Though you should…” she breathed, distractedly, “You should talk to me. Tell me about your father’s swords...or your brother. Tell me about your brother again. He was such a dashing gentleman, w-wasn’t he?”

“Oh yes,” Mort told her kindly, holding the little pup while she worked with Miss Farhorn. “He was a very brave Alpha. A soldier. He was wounded in a skirmish in India once and when he came home, he was not much like the brother I remembered from my boyhood. He was much more serious. Much more stern...like he’d seen things and experienced things that most Alphas do not wish to see. Some of them, I know, come back with terrible dreams but Phillip never did as far as I know. He was introduced to my brother-in-law not too long after he came back and of course, Phillip always gets what Phillips wants.”

“Mmm…” she replied, her eyes closed and Farhorn calmly silent between her knees. “I suppose there are some Alphas who are like that.”

“Yes. In fact, he was so much like that, that he was present for my niece’s birth.”

She opened her eyes to stare up at him, suddenly very awake. “What? That is very unusual, isn’t it Miss Farborn?”

She snorted. “What Mr. Stone has not told you is that _I_ was the midwife for that birth. Florence Stone was the first of Malcolm’s children to survive and nearly the only. There were so many stillborn pups born to that Omega, it did something to his Alpha...pardon my candidness, Mr. Stone, but your brother was a tyrant.”

He smiled, giving out a good chuckle. “He was fiercely protective of his mate and, of course, of Florence.”

“Admittedly, he did well during the birth though he barked a me a few times and I had to set him to rights. He did not go feral, thank god, though I did fear for that.”

Mort nodded sagely. “Well, he did alright but I’m convinced that Tristan would not have. He is very much attached to you, Vanessa, and I think he would have had a fit had he known of our little one’s complication.”

“Alphas always do seem to make things worse…” Vanessa mused. “And knowing this, I think we should name her. You and I, Mort.”

“What?”

“Alphas always want things like family names and boring Biblical things. I want a name that is bold and simple and gives her a path by which to conduct herself. Something that pleads for loyalty and courage.” She looked to Mort expectantly.

He faltered. “You...you want me to name your pup…”

“Well at least give me some options so that I might choose.”

“Have you not talked about this with your mate?”

She took in a short breath. “Ah...no. Not at all. I think it was understood that I would be choosing but I say, Mort, I really don’t know. Come now, you must have ideas.”

Miss Farhorn smiled, washing her hands again. “You’d be shocked at how many young nobles I’ve named, Mr. Stone. Do not overthink it, if she wants for a name, there must be something you can conjure.”

He looked down at the pup in his arms, studying her for a few moments. “Well...I suppose I would want a name that was good for any woman...not just an Alpha or an Omega. One that she can walk with through the whole of her life and be proud of...and if you’d like it to be so different from any other name in the family then I will choose an attribute that reflects upon your mate and her father and you especially, for I think with the looks of her hair that she might take after you very much…”

Vanessa was giving him a soft, queer little smile and it bolstered him.

“Honor. I think I should like her name to be Honor Blackwell…”

“_Honor…_ I love it. It holds us all within it. It is beautiful, Mort. Thank you.”

Farhorn stood. “Well. I think it may be time to let in the Alpha, do you not think? They have suffered long enough for their patience.” With that, she sent for them and when they came, Tris entered first and his hair was mussed and his cravat was missing and when Olive came behind him, she stood as though she were his faithful servant rather than the sire of this babe though she appeared just as disheveled and it was clear that they had spent all their time with each other fretting from the anxiousness in their eyes. “My Lord, should you like to hold your pup?” Farhorn asked, reaching out for little Honor who was still in Mort’s arms.

“Oh? Me? No. Not yet...I...I cannot really feel my hands, you see. Though if Olive were to hold them, I could see just as well. Olive?”

Vanessa was smiling at him wide and toothy. “Her name is _Honor._”

Olive gave a little gasp when Mort handed her over. “Honor? She’s...she’s so gorgeous…” There were tears clouding the Alpha’s eyes and Tris’ hand came to her shoulder as he looked down at her as well. “My Lord, she’s so beautiful. And to think...she’s…”

“She’s so _small_,” Tris replied, his voice filled with emotion.

Mort looked between the two of them, sighing from his seat and feeling much like he needed a good rest. “Yes, she’s very little. And it’s likely that she’ll need to eat soon.”

Olive perked up easily. “I...I’ll feed her…”

Miss Farhorn frowned. “You? Alpha you…”

Tris came to her rescue. “Olive spends a lot of time around me, as fate would have it and so she spends much time around the Viscountess. You know...the scent and everything...she’s…”

Farhorn stared at the Alphas in turns. “So she’s producing.”

Olive nodded eagerly. “That is...unless…” she looked to the Omega who was looking at her with a strange and sort of smug appearance.

Vanessa waved her hand. “You are more than welcome, Alpha. If you do it, then I may not need a wetnurse. She should take some of you anyway. It will make her strong and fit. Maybe it will make her an Alpha.”

Mort chided her. “Now, now...we may not wish to curse her so early…”

Tris scoffed, looking down at Mort with a clear affection. It was obvious that all he wanted to do was be alone with the Beta now that the worst of the moments had passed. They stayed for as long as they needed but as soon as they were again allowed to be alone with each other, the Alpha was brimming with emotion.

They slept most of the day, tight within each other’s arms, and that evening, when they were told very resolutely by their Omega that they were not at all needed, they climbed into a coach together and headed off, debarking at Blakely’s. Despite Mort’s rocky start at the establishment, he had become, in the past eight months, rather a fixture there after several of the Alphas who had been present that night asked after him. How it had really happened, he wasn’t so certain, but Tris had brought him back and introduced him and soon he was spending plenty of his evenings reading from raunchy poetry books and giving young Alphas sound life advice. Mostly, Tris had told him that he was welcome there not only because he was Tris’ mate, but because he was _stabilizing_. He had made it so that Lord Saines was embarrassed enough not to return and, as it was revealed, nearly everyone liked that.

Mort’s presence was usually in no way sexual, his evenings spent in one of the downstairs parlors by a warm fire while Tris kept him company and the other men spoke to him of nearly anything, finding his presence very much calming when they needed it. Of course, there were some nights Tris did manage to get him into a room and at least _one_ evening where he had sipped a little too much brandy and had been convinced to be _shared_ with some very tanned and charming gentleman who may or may not have been the prince of some foreign nation in London on business.

They had shared the news of their new arrival and those Alphas present had toasted to her health before they all casually dispersed and he and Tris were left temporarily alone together, lounging in the warmth and the lamplight.

After a short silence, Mort sighed. “She’s a force, isn’t she? I hope you were not cruel to her...after your wedding.”

Tris suddenly appeared very guilty indeed.

“Tris…”

“I was...angry. Not at her…” He held his hands together, picking at his fingers. “More...just circumstances. I think...I hope...she’s forgiven me.” The more Mort looked at him, the more handsome he was. His scent was tempered and mingled well with the potpourri that sat near to the lamps to offset the smell of them. “And you...I hope you’ve forgiven me.”

“I have...have you?”

“Forgiven you? Of course, Mort, don’t be ridiculous.”

“I meant yourself. I know how hard a man holds to his pride and what standards he holds for himself. Have you forgiven yourself, Tris?”

He was quiet for a little while before he got up and pulled the Beta up to embrace him. “This is what I love most about you. You cut me right to the bone with all your caring. Sometimes I feel like you might smother me with it but you always know when to pull away and be gentle.”

A voice sounded from the door, the exotic accent familiar to Mort but somehow as though he’d dreamed it. “This is what I like about him too.” He was young--younger than Tris--and his scent was smokey and wild and sticky.

Tris was grinning. “Your Highness...”

_Oh my god, he really was a prince…_

“Tristan!” the man cried, his handsome face splitting into an emphatic grin. “Your mate perhaps was into his cups when we met but it did not stop him from being a very courteous lover...this I like! How can I persuade the both of you into a room with me again? Hm?” He snapped his fingers and his servant was at his side. “Wine, please. The best of the house. My lovely Mortimer and my close friend Tristan...drink with me, please!”

Mort wasn’t at all certain of what it was he was supposed to say and was relieved when Tris took the reins.

“I didn’t know you were going to be in town, Mauricio--”

“Oh no. You call me _Mauri_\--I like that. After our sweet Mort called me _Mauri _when he put me face down in the pillows, I have very much liked to hear it. Please say it. I can only hear it here…” He stormed into the room, his wool cape billowing behind him like a black wing.

The Beta’s smile was tight. “I did...I did what?”

“Really Mort,” Tris laughed. “You don’t remember? It was only a few months ago…”

“I was very, _very _drunk.”

Mauri smiled at him, a sensual gleam in his eye. “And very much like a tiger...I cannot believe I had not broadened my horizons before. Who would have thought, right? Tristan?”

“I can attest to that,” Tris told him. “Betas, am I right?”

“Hidden gems,” Mauri agreed. “Ah, here is the wine. Drink, Mortimer, I should have you flushed so that you might take me again with your feral vigor!”

“My…” His hand was filled with a glass and he looked to Tris for aide before he found that his mate was tipping the bottom of the glass so that the edge might come to his lips. “Tris...you don’t really think…”

“I do. You were very vigorous.”

“And you...you liked that? With another man?”

“Darling...yes. I love seeing you in your element. Being a ravenous and sensual man. In fact, I’m rather smug about it...that you’ve chosen me. It doesn’t bother me at all to see you rail Mauri into the pillows and make him scream with delight. In fact, the thought makes my blood simmer with lust.” He leaned and placed a small, teasing kiss over Mort’s ear. “You may be jealous over me all you wish...but I like having a man who can dominate the whole of a room…”

“You’re not...nervous about it?”

“Why should I be? I’m the man who bears your mark. I’m the man who goes home with you...come on...let’s play with Mauri. However you like. Haven’t you ever wanted a prince?”

Mort considered this for a time and then took a deep draw from his wine. “Well...alright...but only because you’re going to be with me.”

“Forever. You and I. I promise.” Tris kissed his brow. “To think...that all these years I hoped for someone like you and you were my neighbor the whole time. Just a stone’s throw away…”

Mort sniffed out a laugh and drained the rest of his wine. “Is this what I have to look forward to tonight? Come along, Mauri. I think we’d best get Tris into a bed before he starts spouting bad poetry or hideous puns.” And with that, he led the way to an empty room and had his prince--well, both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've given absolutely no hints as to what story we're going to be doing next and--
> 
> Yeah haha.


End file.
